


From Dare, to Love.

by LiberAmans214



Series: The One Where They Are All In Highschool [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Angsty Schmoop, Castiel Has a Crush on Dean Winchester, Castiel is a Good Friend, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Denial of Feelings, Destiel Forever Fic Challenge, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eventual Happy Ending, First Dates, Hate to Love, Jealous Castiel, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Multi, Nerd Castiel, One-Sided Attraction, Out of Character, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Playboy Dean Winchester, Popular Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-03-28 06:32:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 91,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13898307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiberAmans214/pseuds/LiberAmans214
Summary: ""It was a dare, wasn't it?" Castiel hissed, his eyes squinted. "Wasn't it?"Dean pursed his lips, his eyebrow raised, as if Castiel's anger was somehow amusing. "Okay. You guessed it. It was a dare. Happy?""What was the dare?" Castiel resounded; almost growled, in a voice octaves lower than usual. "To flirt with me? Did you 'complete' the dare to flirt with the nobody?"Dean smirked again, the corner of his perfect pink lips curling. "No. It wasn't to flirt with you." He spoke, almost plainly. Like, it wasn't a big deal at all. "It was to make you 'want' me."Castiel turned his head from Dean, putting in a conscious effort in breathing.Dean continued, and his voice was as if he was resisting the urge to chuckle. As if Castiel's rage was actually entertaining. "You ought to thank me, Novak. I found a loophole. I'd have slept with you, and you would've 'wanted' me, and that'd have been it."Castiel's voice stuck in his throat."But," Dean still spoke, easily, as if it were something commonplace. "What Ketch meant by 'wanting' was making you fall in love with me. The whole, whipped, can't-sleep-without-can't-live-without Love-me-tender-by-Elvis-Presley love."





	1. "If I wished, I could make you fall for me before you can say, 'Dean, Harder!'"

Castiel was already regretting coming. And it'd only been five minutes.

The entire place reeked of alcohol, cigarettes, and sex. In the dimly lit club, people were grinding against each other on the dance floor, swaying about with drinks in their hands, playing pool, poker, and beer pong, and making out. Girls in revealing dresses swarmed together, or could be seen squealing and clinging to their boyfriends, and a lot of single guys walked around shirtless except for sleeveless jackets which were the new 'in'. Any excuse to show off their muscles, Castiel frowned.

If it hadn't been for Gabriel literally dragging Castiel to the club by the collar of his trenchcoat - well, technically, to the car, after which his chauffeur had driven them here - Castiel would never have come. The place was not only against all his 'principles', but also the opposite of who he was.

But, here he sat, leaning against the counter with a cola in his hand, looking around the place like a fish out of water, judging everyone silently, and wondering when it would be time to go home. He would've left at that very moment if he could, but Gabriel was going to give him a lift back. His eyes occasionally flickered across the dancefloor, meeting eyes he was familiar with and waving weakly to acknowledge them. He'd seen Charlie, one of his best friends, but she was with Dorothy, and Castiel didn't wanna be a third wheel. In any case, Charlie wouldn't be much company to Castiel. She seemed to be occupied with trying to kiss the lips off of her blonde girlfriend.

So there he was, alone. The bartender, a vivacious black-haired girl whose nametag read Meg, had tried to push him to the dancefloor. He'd refused the offer. Not only did he have two left feet, but he was also not a fan of doing stuff in front of everyone - unless that 'stuff' was giving a lecture on Isotopes in Advanced Chemistry, or on 'The Origin of Species' by Charles Darwin, in Evolution- and he definitely didn't wanna look like a fool in front of everyone.

Mourning his situation to himself, Castiel glanced at his watch, which read eleven. He wasn't anxious to get home and go to sleep, just to get out of here. But Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. Castiel didn't really expect Gabriel to be on the dancefloor anyway, he'd probably be hooking up with a freshman in one of the tiny stalls which were supposed to be bathrooms, or winning a drinking competition, among his senior-year friends. 'Brothers', he'd always boast to Castiel. They were truly like brothers. Michael, who resembled Castiel a great deal with his dark hair and sober nature, Raphael, who'd always seemed to Castiel to be a stuck-up, Balthazar, the British guy who always wore suits designed by French tailors who were supposed to be a big deal, and Lucifer, who made Castiel's bones shiver - if that was a thing - just by looking at him with his icy blue eyes.

He'd been about to ask Meg - who was batting her eyelashes at him, whenever he glanced her way - for more ice in his cola, when he was interrupted by a man almost landing next to him. Castiel found himself gawking, before he could help it.

The person who was currently leaning across the counter himself, facing Castiel, was someone Castiel recognised at a first glance, but wished not to. Of a slightly taller frame than Castiel, he was dressed in a brown leather jacket, and a black T-shirt, with acid-washed jeans, and leather hunting boots. He had dark blonde hair, almost brown in the light, and his unmistakably green eyes almost gleamed as the colorful disco lights fell on them. 

Castiel's eyes flickered down to his lips, as he inhaled, and then flickered away instantly, exploring the plane of his cheeks, the sturdy jawline sprinkled with stubble, and once again, his eyes. Green like emeralds, only dancing with something Castiel would put down as whimsicality, or probably menace. Green like the grass, only not peaceful so, but fierce and shielded by droopy eyelids - a result of being drunk, undoubtedly - and long eyelashes. Eyes you could not read; which didn't betray what was happening within; eyes which were irresistibly gorgeous. Eyes, which-  
Castiel pushed away that trail of thoughts. It wouldn't do to think of such things when in such proximity with him. "Dean Winchester," Castiel muttered, under his breath, almost disapprovingly, turning his eyes away from the smirking man in front of him, however much his eyes craved for another look at the 'fascinating picture of aesthetic masculine beauty,' as Hannah - Castiel's good friend and 'only' a friend - had declared one afternoon, talking about the same person. It had stuck in his mind.

"In all his glory." The man breathed out, following with a deep rumbling sound which was supposed to have been a dismissive chuckle, but only made Castiel want to study him again. Castiel looked, from the corner of his eyes, as he asked Meg for a hard beer. Typical. It reminded Castiel of his own drink, and Castiel brought up his drink to his lips, and took in a sip.

"So, Novak," Dean Winchester spoke, now with more substance. Castiel almost spluttered out his drink, in a moment of surprise, as he'd just been referred to by his real name. "I didn't take you as the type to be at these kind of parties." He added, after a moment's pause, which had made Castiel gulp in anticipation. His voice was teasing, snickering even. Castiel fumed at the jeer.

Castiel turned his head to meet his gaze, those eyes, again. "How does it concern you, Dean Winchester?" He hissed back, hostilely.

Dean Winchester chuckled again, and didn't reply.

Castiel had not been anticipating a reply. Not really. Dean Winchester, and people of his status, didn't talk to Castiel. He was Dean Winchester. The oldest of the Winchester brothers - more like the 'IT' brothers, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester and Adam Winchester - captain of the football team, undisputed Prom King. Dean Winchester was the kind of popular guy who was never without company, who was worshipped by freshmen and juniors alike, who could make someone cower with a single smolder. He wasn't the type who ever talked to nerds like Castiel; uninteresting, unnoticeable dorks, who never even went to football matches or prom, or if did, kept their noses towards the phone screen rather the field. 

He had had no business even saying that single line to Castiel - they just didn't mix. It was just what the rules of school were. And, in addition, they had never even smiled at each other, let alone talked. All Castiel knew of him, was from female and male friends who'd had their hearts broken by him - Cassie, Carmen, Jo, Layla, the list went on - and from his reputation which was far more widespread than he probably realised.

So yeah, Castiel had not been anticipating a reply.

But then, Dean Winchester surprised Castiel Novak.

"Well, where's your friends, Novak?" He slurred on the 'v' and Castiel realised he was slightly drunk. Probably on the drunker side of tipsy.

"Not here." Castiel replied, setting his mouth in a straight line. "Why do you care?"

"Whoa, you're touchy." He smirked. "What's got your panties in a knot?"

Castiel, with great efforts, managed to ignore Dean. He wished to turn again, retort with something, but he got a feeling, that he couldn't think of anything clever enough while looking into those eyes.

"Why aren't you dancing?" Dean Winchester spoke again, his voice even more slurred now.

"Why aren't you?" Castiel growled back, before he could think the better of it.

"I was." Dean shrugged, and Castiel was staring at the bounce of his shoulders before he knew it; set, broad, shoulders. "Then got bored of all the pretty chicks around." He winked, and once again got Castiel staring in wonder, in spite of himself. "Spotted some candy by the bar, and now, here I am." He added, in a tone which was as flirtatious as it gets.

Castiel was shocked - and that was an understatement. His eyes widened, and he resisted the urge to ask for clarification, as he took the upper hand, and ignored him. But...'Candy?'

"You know what, you're too stiff." Dean suddenly commented, touching Castiel's arm, and sending a bolt of electricity through him. Castiel turned instantly, his eyes fixed on his forearm, where Dean's fingers had casually grazed, and then back to Dean's fascinating face, which was turned away from him. "Hey! Two shots over here!" He ordered.

Meg turned to fetch glasses wordlessly.

Castiel eyed Dean cautiously. "What's this?" He inquired. He needed to be clear as to, what was happening. Why was Dean Winchester behaving in such a manner? As if they knew each other..as if they were friends? As if he - Dean Winchester - liked him?

"My treat, sweetheart." Dean pushed one of the small-cups towards Castiel, and picked one of his own. He raised it, as if to a toast. "Bottom's up?" He proposed.

Castiel furrowed his brow, and unconsciously tilted his head. The previous fascination had begin to wear off, and he now scrutinized the slightly-drunk man in front of him. He studied his eyes, but they looked sane enough. Sweetheart? His treat? The touching..? The talking...? "No." He said firmly. "What's this?" He moved his hand in air between them both.

"D'you drink?" Dean ignored Castiel's question, eyeing his glass instead, because he'd already finished his own.  
Castiel shook his head. "Answer me."

Dean drank Castiel's shot in response, and then wiped his lips with his sleeve. Castiel, ashamedly, had to blink to stop staring.

"Dean Winchester," he hissed, again. "Why are you talking to me?"

Dean grinned. "Anyone ever told you you've got a alarmingly sexy voice?" Castiel blinked in disbelief. "That look says, probably not. Well, you do." Dean purred out the last part, his eyes easing, as a smile spread on his face.  
Castiel couldn't grasp what was happening. What was this? "Dean." He urged, again. 

"Uh-uh?" Dean raised his head slowly, fixing Castiel with a look, as if he read into his eyes, at his trembling heart beneath the confused exterior; his brain which was meddled up because he was actually being paid attention by the most popular guy in school.

Castiel decided to change his approach. "A-are you flirting with me?"

Dean suddenly sighed, and got down from his stool. Castiel was sure he was going to walk away - Castiel had annoyed him away, he 'annoyed-away' everyone - and although a little bit of him wanted Dean to stay, to whimsically stare at him more, to call him 'sweetheart' again, he was relieved. He would be left alone again, and he was relieved. He would have time to ponder over everything, and everything would be clearer. His heart would return to it's original pace, his breathing would stabilise, and he'd be able to dismiss this encounter as a drunken mistake on part of Dean. 

But, once again, Dean Winchester surprised Castiel. 

He took a step with his right foot, and shifted his left, and was looming over Castiel before Castiel could gauge what happened. Castiel straightened immediately, self-conscious of each move of his, as Dean Winchester literally half-pressed up against him, leaning towards him like positioning for a...for a kiss. 

When he spoke, his essence flooded Castiel; his scent filled him. The smell of leather, mixed with an expensive cologne Castiel couldn't have named even if his life depended on it, and the reek of alcohol, and what was probably cigarettes. But, a strange combination of motor oil, vanilla-shampoo, and apple pie was what actually overpowered Castiel. Castiel stared in disbelief into Dean's eyes, feeling certain that his heart would beat out of his chest any moment now, and he'd die a graphically horrific death; his last sight being Dean Winchester's poison-green eyes.

"I wasn't even trying to be subtle," he whispered, his left arm leaving the table, as he shifted all of his weight onto his right, and half-moved from over Castiel, almost as if he'd proven a point. "But maybe you're so dense that I'm gonna have to do it this way."

All of a sudden, it all made sense to Castiel.

He was sure he looked like an idiot, his eyes widening as saucepans, and his voice got stuck in his throat. It all made sense. Dean's behavior, Dean's suddenly giving him attention, it was all so simple. And here, Castiel had been twisting things up into god-damn-what theories of his own. It was a..."It was a dare, wasn't it?" He hissed, his voice icy cold.

Dean's eyebrows perked up, but he didn't speak.

Irritably, Castiel pushed Dean from over him, with one hand on Dean's forearm, and stood up himself. He'd touched Dean. He was so furious, at the moment, that he couldn't care that Dean was staring at him with that look from before. It had been a dare. Dean Winchester had been dared to do this. To talk to the loser. To the nobody. To...Castiel shuddered, and he was pretty sure his eyes gleamed with fury. "It was a dare, wasn't it? You'd been dared to..to come here...and..." Castiel's voice got stuck in his throat again. It was too overwhelming. He felt like such a loser. "It was a dare, wasn't it?" He repeated, gulping. "Wasn't it?"

Dean pursed his lips. "Okay. It was a dare. Happy?"

"What was the dare?" Castiel resounded, aware that his voice had gone down several octaves, as it did whenever he got angry. And heaven, he was furious. "To..to flirt with me? Are you done? Did you 'complete' the dare to flirt, with the nobody?"

Dean smirked again, the corner of his perfect pink lips curling, his eyes fixed on Castiel. "No. It wasn't to flirt with you." He spoke, almost plainly. Like, it wasn't a big deal at all. "It was to make you 'want' me."  
Castiel turned his head from Dean, putting in a conscious effort in breathing. He actually had to focus, to regulate his breathing. What the hell did that even mean?

Dean continued, and his voice was as if he was resisting the urge to chuckle. As if Castiel's anger, his rage was actually entertaining. "You ought to thank me, Novak. I found a loophole. I'd have had sex with you, and you would've 'wanted' me, and that'd have been it."

Castiel would've rolled his eyes, if he weren't completely taken aback by Dean's words. 

"But, frankly," Dean still spoke, easily, as if it were something commonplace. "What Ketch meant by 'wanting' was making you fall in love with me. The whole, whipped, can't-sleep-can't-live Love-me-tender-by-Elvis-Presley love. I was giving you the easy way out." He added, with another shrug.

Castiel closed his eyes, trying to process everything, and failing. He reopened his eyes, and repeated. "The 'easy' way out? Who said I was gonna...agree?"

"Oh, you would've." Dean threw back his head, and chuckled again, a deep thunder-like sound booming from the depths of his chest. "You would've been begging me for more. I can see it in your eyes, Novak, you're intrigued by me. And," Dean leaned towards Castiel, and now, since Castiel was standing, their heads were close to each other, Dean taller by a couple inches. Castiel's eyes, unconsciously, revisited Dean's lips. "You think I'm gorgeous. You can't stop staring at me. You do 'want' me, and I just need to coax it out of your lips." Dean licked his lips, Castiel's eyes studying the motions in fascination, and leaned even closer. 

Castiel stared back, wordlessly, wanting to say something, but not, in the fear of the response it would invoke from the man who was inches away from his lips. Dean advanced, nonetheless, and in a swift motion, his hand wrapped around Castiel's back.

"I don't." Castiel turned his head away, trying his best to avoid the shivers which Dean's fingers were sending up his spine. Deans fingers ghosted over Castiel's back, moving slightly over his sweater, as if knowing exactly what made him shiver and what made him purse his lips to silence a gasp. "I don't." Castiel repeated, more firmly, staring into Dean's eyes. Dean stared back intently, evidently again reading into Castiel, and his fingers stopped dancing on Castiel's skin, and Castiel used the moment of calm to add, in a voice as cold and harsh as he could manage, "I am not going to agree to sleep with you, nor am I going to fall in love with you." Castiel wanted to snort in disgust, but that would require moving, which was something he was avoiding, in the fear of the latter being so close to him. "You're going to lose this dare, because that's not going to happen."

Dean grinned again, and his fingers splayed over the other side of Castiel's hip now, making the latter close his eyes for a millisecond as he fought his urges. It was almost like a half-hug now, with Dean having his arm wrapped around Castiel. "Well, maybe you won't hook up with me tonight. We'll just have to take the longer route to the destination then." Dean pressed his fingers into Castiel's side, and Castiel stiffened some more. "I'll have to make you fall in love with me."

"You actually believe," Castiel squinted. "That after you having told me this, I'm gonna fall in love with you." Parts of his brain he didn't know existed, began working up, and he felt things melt. Dean's hand didn't go away.  
Dean nodded his head lazily. "If I wanted to, I can make you fall in love with me, before you can say, 'Dean, harder!'" He winked.

Castiel squinted more. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was this his life? Things like this didn't happen to him. He'd stopped thinking...he was only speaking by reflex now. It was, so different from what his life usually was like. "As if." He scoffed, trying to speak with force, but coming out uncertain. "How high an opinion do you have of himself? What are you? What do you think you are, huh?"

"I'm Dean Winchester. " Dean, with a smirk, and a wink - both of which actions, Castiel observed unblinkingly - and removed his hand from around Castiel, placing his elbow on the counter. Castiel breathed, relieved, and more in control of himself. Dean continued, "I'm an Aquarius. I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky-" he paused to take in a sip of his vodka, finishing it off, and slamming it on the counter. "Women. Occasionally others, because some people are built gorgeous and you can't defy laws of nature." He winked, and Castiel tried hard to not blush, astonished at how, in spite of himself, his entire face was flaming at the sudden rush of blood to his face. "And," he grinned, and for the first time, it was a genuine grin, and not a smirk, or a condescending half-frown. "I think I'm adorable."

Castiel rolled his eyes, and looked away, not knowing - in his wildest dreams - what could've been a response worthy of that. 

"So, it's decided then." Dean reseated himself on the high bar-stool, casually grinning. "I'm gonna have to make you fall in love with me." He added a small chuckle at the end, which Castiel couldn't help but listen to, intently, as if his life depended on it.

Castiel, again, remained on the safer side and didn't reply. But inwardly, he was bursting with things to yell at Dean Winchester. Like, for example, things like that only happened in movies and books, not in real life! And, also, that while he couldn't disagree Dean Winchester was extremely attractive, he was not going to fall in love with him! Love couldn't be forced on someone like that, you can't make someone fall in love with you, even, if you look like that and have eyes that resemble emeralds unearthed from places out of reach of humans. And especially after knowing what Dean was like - he'd heard rumors, and even if maybe all of them weren't true, there really wasn't any smoke without fire - and what circumstances were supposed to lead to Dean making Castiel fall in love with him - a freaking dare - there was no way Castiel was falling in love with him. No way on Earth.

Frankly, Castiel often ridiculed the plot of those stories, where all the bad boy had to do was be sweet to the good boy - or girl - and within a single chapter, the good boy begins to develop feelings for him. If he ever met with one of those authors or filmmakers, he'd try to make them understand that people don't fall in love with a clip of their fingers. Opposites don't really attract that much, all they do is appeal to each other. Frankly, what matters is compatibility. 

And as for the bad boy turning into a sweet Prince Charming or the good boy getting a tattoo of a phoenix on his chest, he had a good lot to say on that too. Like, change doesn't happen so easily, love doesn't happen so easily, and no one is that much of an idiot. Even if some people might be, Castiel wasn't. It was one of the only things he was sure he wasn't.

So, Castiel was fairly sure that - though Dean's touch had been excitable and his face fascinating - he was not about to fall in love with the man, any time in the future. It was ridiculous. Just because Dean Winchester had a stocked larder of cheesy lines, and could look at you like you are the World and lick his lips so casually as if he wer- NO. Castiel stopped himself. The conclusion was that, it wasn't gonna happen. All that was going to happen was Castiel making Dean look like the idiot for a change, and lose the bet, or dare, or whatever the hell it'd been which had made him come to Castiel.

"Hey, I said something!" Dean slurred a bit, again, breaking him off from his reverie. Castiel turned his neck to face him with a wary look on his face.

"And I heard you." He replied, pursing his lips, and squinting once again, his head tilting to the side a bit.

"Okay, so you're gonna play the 'ignoring' card already?" Dean laughed again. Nothing was ever a big deal, and it was beginning to annoy Castiel. "It's really ineffective though, I can be really persuasive, Novak."

Castiel looked up at Dean, with a wary look in his eyes. Something struck him, and before he could process it in his mind thrice, he blurted it out. "You talk of big stuff, but you don't even know my name, Dean Winchester."

"What?" Dean raised his hands in defense. "Of course I know your name!"

"Oh, you do, don't you?" Castiel rolled his eyes.

"Sure!" Dean drawled in a falsetto. "Why would you say that?"

"No reason." Castiel pursed his lips. "So, what is my name, Dean?"

"Mister," Dean started out promisingly, his face a series of comical expressions. Castiel had to press his lips together to not chuckle, at Dean's drama. "Mister," he repeated.

"Yep. Mister is what it starts out with, like half the human beings on Earth." It was Castiel's turn to smirk. "And ends with Novak, which you're aware of, probably because 'Ketch'," Castiel scowled. "Pointed to me and said 'Go, make 'Novak' want you.'" He used air-quotes, and Dean smiled. "But what is my name, my first name, Dean Winchester?"

"Mister Pretty-blue-eyes Novak?" 

Castiel gave him a look, struggling to not smile.

"Okay. I give up." Dean rolled his eyes. "What's your name?"

"Castiel." Castiel first thought he'd tease Dean a bit more, but he still worried Dean would walk away because, at the end of it all, Castiel was a nobody and Dean, the Dean Winchester. Dean could walk away whenever he wanted to, it wasn't a bet his life depended on. "Castiel Novak."

"Oh." Dean smiled easily, and Castiel got the feeling that his smile could probably melt butter. "Gorgeous." He mouthed, almost as if Castiel was deaf and had to read his lips. But the drama worked. Castiel was staring again. "That's a name I'm not gonna forget."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Dean."

"Hey, I just called your name gorgeous," Dean grinned. "Call my name gorgeous!" Castiel sighed, at Dean's childishness. "Tell me that my name is the gorgeous-est name you ever heard, much like me, and that you can't wait to moan it ou-"

"You're extremely full of yourself." Castiel informed Dean, not realising that he was getting a hang of this routine.  
"Can I help it? I'm awesome." Dean justified, with a shrug.

Castiel sighed. "If all you can talk about is you, is it really a surprise that I'm ignoring you?" He was beginning to know what to say to Dean now, it was weird, but somehow better than before, when all he could do was gasp at Dean's words.

"Why, yes!" Dean feigned surprise, and his green eyes rounded. "I'm like this all the time, yet people are always flitting around me, begging to spend time with me, all craving a piece of me." He winked again.  
He is chock-ful of innuendos and self-praise, Castiel wondered to himself. That's a weird sense of humour. "I'm not like that."

A minute passed.

"Okay, you know what, if you're gonna be like this," Dean pouted, and Castiel, again, gazed at his lips in wonder, studying the movement. "I'm gonna have to start doing my stuff again." Dean got down from his stool.  
For a second time in a row, Castiel was certain Dean was going to walk away. And for a second time in a row, Dean surprised him.

"I wanna dance." Dean turned to Castiel, his eyes clear and twinkling. Castiel wondered if this was the same person who had been threateningly looming over him a few minutes ago. He put out a hand towards Castiel, almost as if reaching out for a handshake. "You know what, let's dance, Novak."

Castiel's eyes widened. "No!" He pulled back, clenching his fists.

Dean netted his brows together in a frown, his eyes curiously wandering over Castiel like he was inspecting an alien. "I said, I wanna dance with you. Come on." He repeated, as if he were not have been clear the last time.  
Castiel tilted his head a bit, biting back a smile at Dean's confused face. He was clearly not used to being said 'no' to. "And I said, no. Not because, as you think, I don't understand English spoken by you in the first instance," Castiel allowed himself to sport a small, teasing smile, as Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "But because I don't want to. I can't dance!"

"Oh, but you did not-understand, sweetheart," Dean replied, instantly, not missing a beat. There it was, the 'sweetheart' again. "What I actually meant by dancing was holding each other and moving around on the dancefloor under the spotlight and everyone's envious glances."

Castiel pursed his lips. "I do not like the spotlight, or everyone's envious glances, Dean." He spoke quietly, almost cautiously, as if Dean might just burst into laughter.

But he didn't. He merely raised an eyebrow, as he thought about it. "I'll text Benny to go first-base with his girlfriend Andrea, somewhere near the stage. They'll take up the spotlight, and he'll take up 'everyone's envious glances'." He chuckled again, and Castiel had to fight to keep a grin off his face, at the concealed praise of Andrea Kormos' famous looks. "Then, will you dance with me?" He spoke almost gingerly, his voice not slurring at all, and his eyes looking not drunk at all, but almost sincere. Castiel gulped.

He still hesitated, but it was some big saying-no-to, if he said 'no' again. Dean had actually offered to take off everyone's attention from them, and was looking so dapper, just waiting for an answer...and Dean could frankly just go to the dance floor alone and immediately start dancing with any number of random girls if he wanted. He still was asking Castiel.

For a dare, Castiel reminded himself. It still stung, to be the nobody who Dean Winchester was 'dared' to woo. Why would anybody choose 'him'? He stood nowhere on the social ladder; maybe that's why. He had absolutely no intentions of 'falling in love' with Dean Winchester, and helping him complete the dare. But then it was not as if a single dance would mean that Castiel 'wanted' Dean. 

Torn up between his two thought-processes, Castiel hesitated.

"Aw, come on, I'll let you grab my ass." Dean winked again. 

Castiel drew in a sharp breath, having decided what he wanted to say, but playing along. "I don't want to- I don't want to grab your ass, Dean." He repeated, solemnly.

"Well," Dean thought about it for a full minute, his eyes rolling upwards towards the fluorescent lights of the club, as if it helped him think. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to be the little spoon, Novak, I'll grab your ass if you want."

"That's not what I.." Castiel began indignantly, then noticed the smirk on Dean's face, and stopped mid-sentence. "My point is not about anyone grabbing anyone's ass." He almost rolled his eyes, at the sentence he'd just spoken.  
"Well, fine, but whatever your point is, mine is still up for 'grabs'," Dean chuckled at his own joke. "What about you?"

"No," Castiel shook his head, almost with a sigh. Talking to Dean was like trying to talk to a kid who had an over-aged sense of humour. But he was enjoying it. "No, Dean, mine is not."

Dean shrugged, brushing the matter off with a careless bounce of his shoulders; looking like that was how he dealt with the lemons - if any - which life tossed at him. "So, we dancing or what?"

"No." Castiel smiled smally. "No, because the only reason you want to dance with me, is because too many chick-flicks have drilled it into your mind that dancing together is a shortcut to love, and I'm not gonna go along with your stupid plans to 'make me fall in love with you'."

"Firstly," Dean appeared offended. "Chick-flicks? I hate chick-flicks, I don't watch them, Sam's the one who does!" So much for being in denial, Castiel smiled to himself. "And secondly, are you 'actually' already worried about 'falling in love with me'? I mean, I get it, it's gotta be worrisome for you, because, well it's me, but one dance is not gonna make you fall in love with me! Even I wasn't planning on that! Are you actually scared that you'll be in love with me by the time this song is over?"

Castiel opened his mouth to protest, and then closed his mouth. "Reverse psychology, huh?" He cocked his head.

"What can I say, I'm a genius?" Dean mumbled, but somehow it sounded extremely fake, as if he didn't believe it himself, as if he was fake-praising himself, but by this time, Castiel had gotten down from his stool, and Dean had wrapped his arms around the shorter man's waist, so it was difficult for Castiel's brain to function. Castiel stiffened again, now engulfed in a proper hug.

"Dean." Castiel muttered, uncomfortably. 

"Yeah?" Dean grinned not realising that Castiel was literally sweating, and it was a cold night of November.

"Can you, uh, not hold me like that?" Castiel managed, struggling to get a hold on his breathing, and pulse rate.  
"Oh, I didn't realise you.." Dean drew back a bit, satisfying himself by lightly holding Castiel's hip. "I forgot this was you."

Castiel immediately frowned, something in him snapping like a twig before he could take care. "What do you mean?" He hissed.

"Hey, chill, I just meant that I forgot you're not used to dancing or being held so clo-"

"Yeah, because I'm an uncool dork, huh?" Castiel took a step behind, moving out of Dean's grasp. "Who's not used to being held in this totally platonic way by guys, because I don't party, or go to discos where stuff like this is normal, or because I am simply a nerd, huh?"

Dean frowned. "That's not what I tried to say."

"Then what did you try to say?" Castiel snapped. He was fuming at himself for having allowed himself to get carried away by Dean's winning smile and 'reverse psychology'. He should've known, anything related to Dean Winchester, could not, and would not be normal. It was a waste of time. Castiel was playing his own mind, and just because Dean looked like that and had eyes so..so fucking fascinating, Castiel had allowed himself to look like a fool. In the hands of someone who was trying to woo him on a dare. For whom, all he was, was a dare.

A holy fucking dare.

Dean faltered, for the first time, at a loss for words. "I meant, man, that I-"

"Forget about it." Castiel growled, all his previous-friendliness towards Dean - that had surfaced for a few minutes - disappeared. "I'm leaving." He began to march towards the gate, ignoring the yells behind him of, 'Hey!', 'Don't walk that fast, I'll have to run to keep up' and 'Stop, Novak, I didn't mean it like that'. His ears flooded with rage, and it was not until he was outside the club, breathing in fresh night air, where the crappy music - Castiel had richer tastes than senseless rap - reached at lesser decibels, that he stood still, leaning against the wall, his eyes closed.  
This was so unlike anything, that was his life. He'd never imagined, such a thing could happen to him, that his boring life could be made a book like this. Castiel resolved to not let it be so again. And it needn't matter how green Dean's eyes were or how Castiel's eyes couldn't seem to stop counting Dean's freckles each time they were turned upon his face; he was not gonna be made a fool, and be made to look like an idiot.

"Hey, man." 

Castiel turned angrily, but Dean had surprisingly softened features. "What?" He snapped, regardless.

"Don't leave." He said singularly.

"Or what?" Castiel hissed back. He noticed, as he spoke, he could see the air come out of his mouth. It was freezing cold, and being the genius he was - he would later attribute it to his lack of experience in the storming-out-of-clubs area - he had forgotten his coat in the club. "You might think you, the Dean Winchester have a right over everyone, or that the world owes you everything. But you don't have any right to tell me what to do or not to do! Whether to fall in love with you or not! I am not gonna fall in love with you, or be made to look like an idiot, and I shall leave any time I may wish to! So, Dean Winchester, what if I leave?"

Dean opened his mouth, as if he would say something, but then chose not to. A moment passed. Then Dean spoke, "Nothing, really. You can definitely leave if you want to. Just...don't leave like this."

"What?" Castiel repeated himself, still angry.

"It's chilly outside. You left your coat..." Dean pursed his lips. "If you ever did bring one, I wouldn't know, but you should've, and if you have," Dean was looking at the ground; Castiel, at him. "Don't forget it at the club. They don't have a very efficient Lost-and-Found system, you know, and someone else will probably wear it and walk off."

Castiel wanted to yell out, that nobody would want his ugly beige trenchcoat. But he was quiet, realising Dean was actually paying attention to him to notice that he was wearing a single layer. 

"And, yeah, I did deserve all you said, but I need you to know I didn't mean what you thought I meant." Dean muttered.

"Uh-uh." Castiel muttered back, aimlessly, staring at the pebbles near his foot.

"And I," Dean turned his eyes upwards at Castiel, and Castiel noticed Dean was smirking again. The all-too-familiar twinkle in his eyes and easy smile was in it's place, and there was mischief in his voice. But, after having witnessed that one moment of reality, it struck Castiel as strange. "I mean, it frankly wouldn't make sense if I said things that mean to you, when I was trying to make you fall in love with me, huh? I'm not stupid. Not all that awesome a pick-up line, if you know what I mean. I'd never lead with that."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Yes." He mumbled singularly.

"So you...I mean, you..are not offended..and-" Dean stammered a bit.

"Yeah, Dean Winchester, I accept your apology." Castiel winked, in spite of himself. A voice in the back of his mind told him to be rude some more and completely put Dean off of him, but he ignored it. 

"I never said 'sorry'." Dean clarified, a smile creeping up to his lips.

"Oh my god, are you one of those sorry-misers?" Castiel frowned, and pulled back, with the kind of smile he usually only displayed to his friends, and not really paying attention to it. "You know, one of those people who will say anything, but the 's' word? Please tell me you're not one of those!" 

"Hey, I say sorry when I need to." Dean scowled back, and the interesting turning down of his lips and lopsided look made Castiel want to chuckle, but he restrained himself. "And, anyways, even if I was a...whatever-you-said, I could change! I could change myself for you, and not let anything be a hindrance in our love. So tell me, Castiel Novak, were I one, would that make you not love me? Would thy deem me incapable of loving?" Dean ended, dramatically, overacting like a bitch, but making Castiel laugh nonetheless.

Castiel shook his head for a reply, and Dean smirked and muttered something about how cliche that 'no' was and how soon it would turn into a 'I love you, Dean, in spite of your flings and flaws', which made Castiel roll his eyes for the millionth time. The two began walking back towards the club - Castiel had fast-walked about hundred metres ahead of the door.

"Thee, by the way." Castiel muttered, as they walked.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You said 'would thy deem me incapable of loving'. Not 'thy', 'thee'." Castiel spoke quietly, realising he sounded like a dork, correcting someone's dramatic rant's Shakespearean English. "I mean..nothing. Forget about it."

"No, no, that's cute." Dean half-turned towards Castiel, continuing to walk nonetheless. "You correcting my grammar is cute. I think it's cute." Dean smiled.

Castiel inhaled deeply, and didn't reply. What would he say, anyways, to Dean calling him cute. And smiling at him like that. He 'was' right. Dean Winchester was incredibly charming.

They reached the club, and the blaring loud music brought Castiel out of his reverie. "I'll go get my coat."

"I'd offer, but I don't know which one's yours." Dean flirted unabashedly.

Castiel reddened a bit once again. "I'm perfectly capable of getting my coat by myself, Dean."

"I bet you are," Dean grinned. "But it's called chivalry. So I'll walk with you."

Castiel chuckled, in spite of himself. Dean was behaving like one of those guys who were in epic long-term relationships and didn't get tired of their partners, like ever. Those really, really, rare guys. God, Dean was really already putting in all of his best. But a few cheesy lines might make Castiel blush, or shut up, but they weren't gonna make him fall in love. That is so not how it happened.

"You're ridiculous." Castiel informed Dean, and walked in, inevitably followed by Dean. He picked out his trenchcoat, and folding it up and draping it over his arm, he walked back out. Dean followed, again.

"So, you're actually going home?" Dean asked, politely, as Castiel put on his trenchcoat over his jacket. "Because of me?"

"Yeah." Castiel nodded, sarcastically. "Because of you, and not because of the fact that I was bored to a pre-mature-death state just sitting there, and doing nothing." He later pondered over how easily he'd forgiven Dean. And how casually he had said those lines. As if they'd known each other long, which was not the case.

Dean grinned. "Aw, so you aren't still mad at me?"

"For the..sentence? No." Castiel even flashed him a small smile. "For this whole deal where you're being fake-nice to me and pretending to be into me to literally make me fall in love with you, so that you can complete a dare, or whatever this is, and your friends can get a kick out of it? Yeah, I'm still angry about that."

"You'll grow out of it." Dean assured. Then, his eyes uncertainly scanned the road. "So..you're gonna run home like you were doing had I not interrupted?"

"I wasn't running." Castiel frowned.

"Yeah, well, jogged home. Same thing." Dean shrugged.

"I was only walking." Castiel frowned deeper, squinting.

"Oh well, are you gonna casually walk home at the speed of 100 miles an hour?" Dean smiled.

"That would make me faster than the cheetah, whose fastest speed is only 67 miles per hour and officially the fastest land creature." Castiel spoke, regretting the sudden burst of trivia, and answering Dean's question in a hurry, before Dean would begin to tell Castiel he thought him being a nerd was cute and smile like that. "And, no. When I was safely away from you, I was gonna call my cousin to pick me up. He's who brought me here."

"Well," Dean smiled brightly, his entire face lighting up. Dimples, Castiel noticed for the first time. He'd have to look out for those dimples too, from now on. Why were so many elements of Dean's face so fascinating. "How about you call him up and tell him you found a ride?" He finger-gunned himself.

Castiel pinched his brows together, his breathing picking up pace. "You?"

"Yeah, I'll take you home." Dean said casually.  
"Whose-" Castiel muttered, before he could think exactly what he was saying. "I mean, obviously mine, but you know, you don't know..." His voice faltered, unable to articulate his unclear state of mind.

But Dean had heard it. He laughed out loud, throwing back his shoulders one instant, and bending, holding his stomach the other. It was great to watch him laugh like that. Castiel secretly felt proud of himself. "Well, sweetheart," he began smoothly, after he'd stopped laughing and gasping for breath. "I have no problems with either. But I feel I should inform you that there's only one bed in my entire apartment, and I sleep naked." He added solemnly.

Castiel stifled his urge to chuckle, satisfying himself with sporting a little smile. "I didn't mean that."

"Of course you didn't." Dean cooed, and Castiel scowled in response. "Why don't you call up your cousin, and then I can take you home?" He spoke the last words in a breathy voice, his gaze all intense and mysterious. The infamous smolder. Castiel knew it was meant as a joke, but he realised he couldn't look away. He gulped, wishing he could just look away, anywhere but into Dean's graciously green eyes and perfect lips...It was a total shame that a guy be made to look that heavenly. It was unfair.

"You can blink, sweetheart," Dean chuckled, breaking away the gaze himself. Castiel blinked a couple of times, and his eyes began to flicker all around the face, at everything other than Dean's face.

"I wasn't..staring." He muttered, helplessly, fishing out his cell phone from his coat pocket, and begin to poke buttons on the screen to place a call to Gabriel. As he did, he realised he was actually going to go home with a stranger, well as stranger as a guy he met that very night who wanted to make him fall in love was. But he realised he didn't really care. While he didn't care about love, Dean seemed trust-able enough. As a friend, or something, which he knew in the back of his mind that he and Dean Winchester were never going to be, but well, the point was, at the moment, that he had come to the club with his cousin and was going to leave with the most popular guy in highschool and the thought didn't really bother him. Perhaps Castiel had learnt to 'live in the moment', as Charlie had scowled and said Castiel didn't know how to. He smiled inwardly at the thought, and clicked on the 'call' button. It was a character development, you could say. A queer character development. Which surprised him as much as it would the people he would tell about his spontaneous decision later.

"I never said that you were." Dean regarded, with another flirtatious smile. Castiel strained his eyes away, and put the phone to his ear.

The phone begun to ring.

Gabriel picked up right when Castiel was sure the call would go to voicemail.

"Gabriel?" Castiel spoke softly, aware that Gabriel was probably completely drunk by now and any sound would probably irk him up and give him a headache.

"Castiel?" Gabriel spoke, and he sounded fairly sober.

Castiel had been about to stammer out his situation, but Gabriel cut him off.

"You called in perfect time. I was gonna call you any moment now. Meet me outside the club in five, we're leaving." He spoke kind of shortly. Castiel didn't believe that he was disappointed, but he tried his best to hide it.

"I'm already out here. See you." Castiel was about to add something, but Gabriel hung up abruptly. Castiel looked at Dean, who was looking at him, almost hopefully. "He's leaving. I'm...gonna be leaving with him."

"Well, it's cool." Dean grinned, casually. There was no disappointment of any sort of his face. Maybe he wasn't, or maybe he was exceptionally good at hiding it. More possibly the former, considering it was Castiel. Castiel himself did his best to not look sad, and even grinned, when Dean added, "I'm sure I'll get pretty many chances to take you home later."

"I don't usually come to clubs." Castiel informed him.

"Yeah, well, we do go to the same highschool." Dean replied with a smile, and Castiel, for a moment, was actually fazed that Dean hinted he would talk to him during school. During school, Dean Winchester was...was seldom unnoticed. He was surrounded by at least ten people all the time, and guys and girls flitted around like bees to honey. And Castiel, had his own circle of what? Three - Four people. And Dean would actually hangout with him? The thought was...Castiel pushed it out of his mind, realising he had spaced out in front of Dean, and rushing back to reality.

"We do, yes." Castiel affirmed. 

There was silence for a while.

"Hey, by the way, Gabriel is your..cousin?" Dean asked suddenly.

"Actually, he's like a stepbrother," Castiel contemplated. "But he lives separately, mostly, and my dad and his mom are divorced, and technically he's not even dad's son, so we're, to put things simply, on the same level as cousins."

"Oh." Dean spoke, and Castiel immediately realised that Dean hadn't really asked for all of that. 

He embarrassedly, croaked out a, "You know him?"

"Kinda." Dean brushed the back of his neck. "Short guy, walks around with candy, pretty popular with chicks?" He confirmed. 

Castiel considered it. "That's him, alright. So, you know him?"

"I mean, I'm acquainted with him and his group." Dean frowned slightly. "You know, Michael, Lucifer.." His eyes suddenly turned up brightly, and his lips quirked up in a peppy smile. "Lucifer, most of all, but only because he's obsessed with Sammy."

"Your brother?" Castiel asked. Wasn't it Sam? Had he heard wrong?

"Yeah, Sam." Dean corrected. "Calling him Sammy has become a habit, and he hates it so much that I can't bring it in myself to stop." He grinned. "So, yeah, Lucifer has a hard one for Sam."

"You mean," Castiel lips curved in an amused smile too. "Lucifer has a crush on your brother?"

"Big-time." Dean grinned, as if the matter was of great pleasure to him. "That's kinda why I know him. He's a proper pain in the ass, no doubt, but it's fun to watch Sam squirm and get awkward, you know?" Dean grinned. "And from knowing Lucifer, I also came to know Michael, who could frankly be a cool guy if he weren't the golden boy of the school. But then, he's always dead-serious, like every person on Earth were plotting to kill him, so one can't really talk to him properly."

Castiel laughed, "That is so true! He does do that!" He nodded, enthusiastically.  
"And then, there's Raph or Ralph, I don't know, something like that," Dean tried to remember. "But he's all quiet, like he's secretly judging everyone, you know? And he's always all broody, and never really does much, just slinks around with his brothers- wait a second, he's not your brother too, is he?" He suddenly pulled back. "I'm not talking crap about your brother, right?"

"Not that I'm aware of." Castiel smiled smally. "They just have this whole act going on, 'of the same brethren' kind of thing."

Dean scoffed. "They strive to be as awesome as their juniors, a.k.a. us." He spoke casually, and then straightened immediately. "I mean...not to mean any disrespect, but..."

"They do strive to be the 'Dean Winchester's of senior year, no doubt." Castiel remarked, before he could realise how pre-teen-Disney-movie-like he sounded.

Dean lightened, and grinned again. "But they're four, and I'm the one and only." He smirked. "And, plu-" he stopped, since Gabriel walked out of the club at that very moment, followed by Lucifer, Michael and Raphael, in that order. Castiel met Gabriel's eyes, and mirrored his smile.

"Hey, guys." He did a very light, sarcastic tipping of his hat, gesturing in particular to Lucifer. Castiel knew he'd never again look at Lucifer the same, but he managed not to burst out laughing. Dean continued, smoothly as always. "Great day, isn't it?" His eyes flickered back to Castiel, crinkled in a smile, and Castiel almost read from his look what he meant to say: 'Speak of the Devil'.

"It's night, but if only you had eyes." Michael replied, surprisingly coolly, almost with a deep stare at Dean. Castiel noticed it, and felt there was something there. Like...was that how Castiel stared at Dean? Hell, he sighed. He hoped not. "Or brains, for that matter."

"Oh, I do know it's night!" Dean replied in a sarcastically highly enthusiastic voice. "I was just making senseless small talk, which is tape-recorded in my brain from our previous meetings, because I really don't wanna talk to you." He pouted, and Castiel noticed, helplessly staring as usual, that even from the side, his jawline was just as gorgeous. "You see, you guys, you're incredibly boring."

Lucifer snorted, as Michael just regarded Dean with a cold stare. "Speak of yourself, princess green-eyes Winchester."

"Do you really think being mean to me is the way to my brother's heart?" Dean purred back.

Lucifer glared back. "I'm gonn-"

"Yeah, well. That's enough small talk." Dean faked a yawn, but did it beautifully. "I'm gonna be going in now," he gestured towards the club, "take care, you guys, and don't let the chill freeze the sticks up your asses. I hear that's painful." He turned to me, as Lucifer, Michael and Gabriel muttered something amongst themselves, and Gabriel began walking towards towards his car.

"I'm going, Dean." Castiel turned towards Dean, who was looking at him with a large grin. "And good joke." Castiel smiled.

Dean chuckled. "Thank you." He raised his hand, in a 'bye' gesture. "Take care, sweetheart."

"Please don't call me that in public." Castiel pleaded, since Michael stood very close, probably waiting for Lucifer to arrive with the car.

"Okay, honey." He winked.

"Maybe anything 'not' from the 1970s." Castiel rolled his eyes. 

"I'd call you 'baby' which is the most common name between couples these days," Dean spoke with the air of someone who was fifty years old. "But I already call someone that."

"Who?" Castiel bit his lip, regretting his curiosity, as he spent the next moment under Dean's scrutiny.

"Hey, don't gimme your sad-face, Novak," Dean winked. "Not a mistress. You're not getting out of his relationship on the basis of my infidelity."

"This is not a relationship."

"What a perfectly 'Castiel Novak' thing to say," Dean dramatically rolled his eyes. "I guess, to you, it's just me trying to get you to fall in love with me, huh? After all of this time and all we've been through together, this is just one-sided to you, isn't it?"

"Dean, I meant like, perhaps, my name. If you haven't forgotten it yet." He teased, ignoring Dean's dramatic rant.

"Ha ha, very funny, Castiel." Dean grinned broadly. "I'll see you tomorrow, and I'll have thought of a good name by then." He blew him a kiss. "For I'll spend all night thinking of you, so you won't be the only one."

Castiel found it difficult to breathe following Dean's air-kiss, because that was exactly what was expected of a dumb idiot like him. "U-uh.. Yeah."

Dean kept grinning, and standing there on the sidewalk, as Castiel got into Gabriel's expensive red Buick Roadmaster, shotgun. He waved at Dean, before realising he probably looked like a idiot doing it, so stopped, and raised the car windows. Gabriel started the car, and off they were.

"That was Dean Winchester, huh?" 

Castiel was slightly surprised. 'Who else looks-slash-talks like that?' He was tempted to say, but he contented himself with pressing his lips together and nodding his head. "Yes."

"You...you hangout with Dean Winchester?" Gabriel asked, after a moment's break. "I mean, I had no idea, you were even friends."

We're not. He's just trying to make me fall in love with him, which is why he's being super charming and hanging around with me, Castiel wanted to answer. But he once again, just nodded his head. "Sort of."

"Well," Gabriel turned his head towards Castiel with a cautious look before he turned back to the road. "He's not exactly the best company, if you know what I mean.."

"I know." Castiel cut him off, annoyed that Gabriel was talking to him like an elder brother who knew more than he did. "But you hang out with Lucifer an-" he countered, but was cut off.

"That's different." Gabriel breathed out. "I'm...we're a group. Are you..are you a part of Dean Winchester's group?"

"This isn't middleschool." Castiel muttered back, knowing it wasn't exactly the answer to Gabriel's question. It set his mind pondering too. Of course, he wasn't even close to being a part of Dean's group. Dean's group. The popular guys and girls. He was a nobody. There was no doubt about that.

"Yeah, it's the sequel." Gabriel shrugged. Castiel pursed his lips, his eyes on the road.

"It's not a big deal, Gabriel." He mumbled.

"Yeah, and I know my li'l bro can take care of himself." Gabriel grinned. "Just saying, anyhow, that Dean Winchester is bad company. He's not just the I-have-too-much-sex-so-whoops-I'm-bad bad, he's... More serious than that."

Castiel wished Gabriel wouldn't talk like that. "Okay..."

Gabriel took a left turn. "You know what? I'm sorry for talking like that. It's completely your business who you hangout with. Jus' looking out for you."

"Yeah, thanks." Castiel smiled a bit, relieved.

"Do you, though, have a crush on him?" Gabriel's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Because I happen to know, he's available, and into guys too." Of course, Dean Winchester was available. The last relationship he'd had was back in Freshman year, and after the alleged breakup with Lisa Brandon, he'd been sleeping around, hooking up with girls, single or taken.

"No." Castiel shook his head firmly. Although he wants me to be. "Not at all. He's just a..friend, just a guy I was talking to tonight...nothing more. I do not have a crush on him."

"That's one too many times." Gabriel noted quietly.

"No, it's not." Castiel stated clearly. Of course, didn't have a crush on Dean Winchester. Dean is only a ridiculously good-looking guy who was looking to make Castiel fall in love with him. That was it. 

"Fine, brother." Gabriel put the hand he kept on the gear, on Castiel's shoulder. "Jus' asking."

"Alright."

There was silence for a while.

"By the way, did I tell you what I and Balthazar did tonight..." Gabriel began enthusiastically, and the rest of the car journey was spent in recalling Gabriel's tales of the night. Castiel usually didn't mind. He liked hearing the bizarre stuff they did, about their experiences with girls and guys alike, about their stupid games of Dare, and Seven Minutes in Heaven. But today, he was in the mood to think to himself. About the entire night. Properly process everything. 

For the first time in a very long time, something had actually happened that made him wanna sit down in a quiet corner, close his eyes, and actually think about it all. It was a good feeling. And for a moment, Castiel didn't mind being chosen at the victim in the gang's stupid game. He was happy, that things were finally happening in his life. These days, everybody was either getting girlfriends and boyfriends - Charlie - or taking up jobs for the afternoon - Garth - or getting into research and looking into colleges - Kevin. He was happy that finally there was something for him to think about while going to sleep - not Dean Winchester's eyes, but the situation, he meant - and there was a tingling feeling.

It was an unfamiliar exciting feeling, which came with the added essence of Dean Winchester.

And surprisingly to Castiel, but not so much to the people who know him well, he liked it. The feeling? He could live with it.


	2. "I like texting. Emoticons."

The night passed in a hurry, or perhaps a graceless flurry, and eight o'clock found Castiel Novak on his bed, scrambling through the covers to find his stupid cell phone which was blaring Asia - Heat of the Moment, his alarm - to shut it up. 

Don't judge him. It had been Gabriel's idea.

"Shut up, shut up, shut uuuuup," Castiel groaned - almost to the beat of the song - finally giving up on it, and sitting upright, only to discover he'd been searching for the cell on his bed, while it was on his bedside table the whole while. He picked it up, his nose scrunched in a frown, and almost slammed his first finger on the 'Stop' button, missing the 'Snooze' by an inch - or perhaps even hitting Snooze, he didn't care, he'd come to know if the song began to play five minute after.

For a moment, Castiel looked around the room, confusedly, as he did every morning. Things began to make sense in a second, he was Castiel Novak, he lived here, he had to get up for School. He always felt this way in the morning, or following a nap, and envied insomniacs. Plainly, anyone who didn't need to sleep, was enviable. It was such a blank feeling, sleeping, with nothing to account for, for the hours spent in sloth. And one woke up so terribly shaken, so clueless, so unintelligent and so vulnerable. Castiel was never meant to be a sleeping-kind-of-guy, he often told himself. Then, yawning hugely, he returned to his pillow, gratifyingly. But now, that he had been sleeping for all 17 of his years of being alive, he could've smiled if he had not just woken up, he might as well do so again. He'd been about to close his eyes, when he heard an unfamiliar 'beep'. It was his phone again.

Resisting the urge to hurl it at the door, he picked it up. As he did, slowly, accompanied by several groans as he stretched his hand awkwardly, to get hold of the device which made his mornings hell, there were two more 'beep's. It could've been a new application. Perhaps something Gabriel installed to disturb him. But he didn't underestimate Gabriel so, for more than a few seconds, well aware that Gabriel would rather not do anything than do something so 'minor'.

'Three New Messages'

Castiel pressed his lips together, trying to think who they could be from. He wasn't really the type who got texted a lot. Hell, he hated texting - which was supposed to be a secret, except everyone knew it - and didn't get the point of it. Charlie, Kevin, and Garth, his friends were well aware of this and avoided texting him unless there was an emergency and he couldn't be reached by phone. That left very few others who'd text him. Gabriel was under the same roof as him, in the room next to his, and definitely asleep at that hour, so that ruled him out. His father was just as big a non-texter as he was. That left no one who'd text him at six in the morning. Except perhaps the phone company people. But there was no reason for that either - Castiel paid his bills regularly and there could be no chance of an over-use of his balance. Still wondering, he clicked on the notification, to reveal the three messages.

Unknown Number  
>>> Rise n Shine, cherry-pie!  
>>> Dreamt a little Dream of me?  
>>> How did thee sleep, future-lover-of-me?

Castiel stared at the three bizarre messages for a whole minute, before they begun to make sense. Dean Winchester. No one else talked like that. No one else, at least, talked to him like that. He remembered everything. Much in the same way as one's life flashes in one's eyes at the time of death, the events of last night flooded through Castiel's mind. The talking, the air-kiss, the 'sweetheart', the touching, the dancing, the freckles, the dimples, the green eyes, and the dare. The dare, Castiel ran his tongue over his parched bottom lip as his mind raced, the dare which had Dean Winchester put on his best - most charming - behavior in front of Castiel, so as to make Castiel fall in love with him. He reminisced on all the feelings of previous night, quite spacing out of reality, as he replayed the most important scenes of the previous night in his mind.

Then, suddenly his brain realised he hadn't replied to Dean Winchester yet. Dean's phone probably showed that Castiel had 'Read' the messages, and perhaps he was waiting for a reply. More likely he was talking to some other girl who did know how to reply to a text like a human being, but the thought of Dean Winchester waiting for Castiel's reply with those rounded green eyes and expectant smile, set Castiel in motion. He turned clockwise, and his legs hanging over the side of his bed, and his brow furrowed in concentration, he reread the messages. In a hurry, Castiel selected the text area, and his keypad appeared. His fingers twitched, as he realised he didn't know what to reply.

After a long moment of highly intelligent thinking, he replied.

Unknown Number  
<<< Dean?

The reply was instant, which led Castiel to be assured, with an unconscious smile on his lips, that Dean had indeed been waiting for Castiel's reply and not talking to someone else.

Unknown Number  
>>> yep.  
>>> M hurt rn. Who else talks to u like that

Castiel hurriedly typed in a response. He hated texting because he was bad at typing, he reminded himself, as he laboriously searched the QWERTY keypad for 'l'. 

Unknown Number  
<<< No one, I was only making sure. Hello, Dean. No, I did not dream of you, I did not dream at all, and I slept well. Thanks for asking. By the way, that is correctly used Shakespearean English, Dean.

There was a pause. Fine, so he IS talking to someone else.

Unknown Number  
>>> Thnx, I lrnt frm d bst

And he followed with a flurry of winking emoticons.

Castiel spent more time than necessary applying all those expressions to his imagery of Dean's face and taking delight in how he looked. Then he realised he again, hadn't replied, and hurried.

Unknown Number  
<<< You're welcome, and assuming you did mean me, thank you.

Once again, there was a pause. Castiel wasn't surprised, Dean had a lot more to do than text Castiel. And Castiel was an exceptionally boring person to text, he'd been informed by the ever-straightforward Kevin. He was aware he didn't use common texting language, and that he did use punctuations and accurate spellings, all of which was weird 'etiquette for SMS' as Charlie had put it. 

Castiel used the time he got, as Dean talked to anyone else on the planet but him, to save the number as 'Dean Winchester'. Then suddenly, there was another 'beep'. Almost excitedly, Castiel checked the new message.

Dean Winchester  
>>> hey, I wnted 2 talk 2 u. Hw d u get 2 school, cherry-pie?

Castiel squinted, and laboriously began texting again.

Dean Winchester  
<<< School bus. Is that what you wanted to talk to me about, Dean? 

Castiel didn't have to wait long.

Dean Winchester  
>>> No, swthrt. I wnted 2 see if I could give u a lift. 

Castiel smiled, in spite of himself, at the offer. He had no troubles missing the school bus. He was happy he got to, really. Nobody really liked him, and he often sat alone, when Hannah didn't come or had to sit with the Student Council. And often, people like Ketch - who also had been the one to give Dean that dare, Castiel growled - urged the bus driver that Castiel had told them that he would not come, and the bus driver would believe them and then he would be left on the bus stop, a minute later, like a moron. So, of course, he was willing. Plus, it meant that he'd get to talk to Dean Winchester about whatever Dean wanted to talk about. And that he would get to study his eyes again. Not that that was important.

Dean Winchester  
<<< To school? Of course, why would I mind? 

The reply was instant.

Dean Winchester  
>>> Cya in 2?

Castiel had no idea what that meant.

Dean Winchester  
<<< I do not understand that, Dean.

The reply again, was instaneous.

Dean Winchester  
>>> Means: I'll b by ur house in 2.

Castiel worriedly glanced at the wallclock, still unaccustomed to using his cellphone for the purpose. 

Dean Winchester  
<<< I am not yet ready, Dean. I shall need more time.

Dean replied with a 'GIF' where a cartoon laughed until he toppled over his chair, and hurt himself on his head, and still continued to laugh. Castiel examined it, trying to decipher what could've been the relation between the message Castiel sent, and an animated person who was laughing. But Dean explained himself.

Dean Winchester  
>>> By '2' I meant soon.  
>>> Say, within fifteen min.  
>>> Sound gud?

Still confused as to why Dean would say '2' instead of '15' and realising it was another example of 'proper texting etiquettes', Castiel typed in his answer. If it hadn't been Dean, a voice in his head reminded, he wouldn't bother replying. Castiel hated texting.

Dean Winchester  
<<< Yes, it does. Thanks for offering. I will Cya in 2, Dean.

Castiel was proud of himself. Then Dean sent him an emoticon of a smiley laughing with tears in his eyes. Not so proud then.

Dean Winchester  
>>> yeah, u will  
>>> I'll b d guy in d sexy black car.  
>>> bbye  
>>> think of me in d shower, cherry-pie 

Castiel understood most of that. He knew Dean had a 'sexy black car' which was famed as the 'pick-up' Car of highschool. He suspected it was a Chevrolet, but he had never really gotten a close view. He didn't understand the two 'b's in 'bbye'. Perhaps it was a typing mistake. A 'typo'.  And the last line was again an obscure joke, which Dean specialised in, and Castiel was tempted to send Dean a 'poker-face' emoticon which would've suited the statement. But he didn't send it, knowing he'd have to search through the list to find it, which would take time, and could give Dean the impression that Castiel was mentally retarded.

Dean Winchester  
<<< Bye, Dean.

His phone showed that Dean had received the message but hadn't read it, which gave him the impression that either he had returned to texting more fun people or had gone away to get ready. Commonsensically the latter, but in Castiel's brain, the first. Castiel put down his phone, seeing no more new messages in spite of waiting for a whole minute - no real surprise there - and putting his elbows on his knees, crouched to rest his chin in his palm. It helped him think. About what, if you asked him, he'd reply with an expressionless stare, typical of him. Taking a shower did too, he reminded himself, and he stood up; no more sleepy somehow. While searching for a towel and his clothes, he tried to convince himself that thinking of what Dean might have to talk about, or of how he was going to make himself immune to all of Dean's (frighteningly) charming advances and flirtations, was not the same as thinking of Dean, in particular, as he'd said in his text. Thinking of Dean would mean thinking of the way his eyes fixed themselves on Castiel's and often refused to move, especially when he wasn't crinkling them and bending over with laughter. Or how his arms used to- NO. You're a genius, Castiel. Castiel walked into the shower.

Music helped him think too - from Elvis Presley to Shakin' Stevens to Bruno Mars to Ed Sheeran, it didn't matter as long as it was something beautiful - but he couldn't just choose a CD and begin blaring it, because it was eight nonetheless, and there were people sleeping. 

Well, technically, there were only two other persons in the entire house - a house fit for six if each needed four thousand square feet to himself - but a house where only two lived - three, on the days when Gabriel was too lazy to return to his condo on the other side of the city where he otherwise spent the night - and which needed more people to fill space but had a lack of. Castiel Novak and his father Charles Novak (or Chuck Shurley, if you were to meet him at a book-signing) were the only permanent residents of 'Paradise', which was the name suggested by Castiel's mother, for the house. She had died on the day Castiel had been born, and all he knew of her was that she possessed the blue eyes and crowfeet which Castiel had inherited. Charles - Chuck - had remarried, and Gabriel had been the son of a rich guy and the raging alcoholic blonde who had demanded a divorce exactly a year following her marriage to Charles. Kinda explains how he turned out as he did. Once again, Gabriel turned out looking like his mother, with an eternal smirk on his lips and whiskey-colored eyes and chocolate-blond hair. But then, Gabriel's mother had left Charles and moved on. Charles got full custody, and never married again. If this life did sound like a fairy-slash-folk-tale, it wasn't meant to. Because it wasn't one.

Charles Novak was a writer. He wrote under the pseudonym of 'Chuck Shurley' to avoid people crowding up his personal life. Not that he had any, since all the hours of his day were used up either writing, or thinking about  his book. Castiel used to mind when he was a kid, but not anymore. He understood now. What he felt with his History Textbooks - Castiel was an all-A student but he topped the class in History - was what his father felt with his 'Wayward Sisters' series. It was a paranormal series he'd been writing since about six years, and often he and Castiel would have thoughtful chats about the plot and his characters. Castiel had always told Charles that if he begun to do his own publishing, he'd earn a lot more, but Charles never wanted to take another duty on his head. He was happy enough writing, and produced manuscripts regularly, at least one each couple of months, and was so used to it, it was more a lifestyle than work. He'd sit on his Dell Laptop, locked up by himself in his room, and write away. Then he'd send it to his publisher, 'The Harvelles and Co.' who'd change the names, the ones Charles used were always of people he knew so that he could write them better with more believable names if anything, or occasionally the ending because some of the stuff Charles wrote could be emotionally scarring, and then publish it in the name of 'Chuck Shurley'. Charles would get 50% royalties, and the Harvelles, the rest. 

The money he earned alone was enough for them to live a comfortable life as a member of the upper class of society. Added to this, the family wealth, and the Novaks were pronounced rich with all the letters in capital. Castiel and Gabriel were the only people who were to spend these millions - Chuck was satisfied with his colorful t-shirts with weird quotes which Gabriel made a point to regularly gift him each birthday, Christmas, or book-signing and Wendy's-bought Chicken every night for dinner.  "Castiel was lucky to have Gabriel with him to share the wealth" and "make their lives worthy of their bank accounts", or "Castiel and Charles would have been living the life of two office clerks on the salary of the Chief Executive Officer of the company", Gabriel had noted observantly. 

Castiel and Gabriel, so everyone had always said, were the most-common two kinds of rich highschoolers there were. Castiel was the needs-to-prove-himself and aims-to-make-his-own-name kind of guy, who wanted to show that he didn't only survive on his family wealth all his life, who did not use money as the way-in and way-out of life, and who hardly ever wanted people to know of his financial status. Gabriel, on the other hand was the guy who took life with a grain of salt, lived a lavish luxurious life with four cars, a condo in the poshest area of the city, and a lifestyle from which most would've shied away. He spent endlessly, and was - if not a stuck-up snob - definitely a splendid spendthrift. It was, frankly, difficult for anyone to imagine that they were brothers - well, stepbrothers - and most people at Lawrence High didn't even know that they were related. Gabriel was the popular senior, not exactly dumb but a constant 'bunk'er of classes, a hit with the girls and known for his laid back, trickstery-y attitude. Castiel was the unnoticeable junior, an all-A student who was known only for his feats in Ancient History if anything, hardly ever talked to girls - or guys, for that matter - and not really paid attention to. They were as different as chalk and cheese, with Gabriel taking the cheese, always.

Castiel walked out of his bathroom - and dressing room - dressed in jeans and a blue sweatshirt. He pulled a sweater over it, and began rummaging around the room, packing books in his bag, hurriedly. He'd spent far too much time in the shower - thoughts of Dean Winchester had kept him busy - but at least he was properly woken up now. Not the lost, confused guy who'd messaged Dean Winchester crap early in the morning which he was going to regret as hell when he reread it. He'd been talking to Dean like it were Charlie, or Gabriel, and Dean was surely going to think that Castiel was considering him- why did his mind keep wandering to Dean Winchester? Forcing himself to instead concentrate on his first class of the day, Business Studies. He didn't really like any of the Commerce classes he took, especially B. S. with Rowena MacLeod. But he would survive, it was at least better than Mr. Campbell's Physics.

He finished stuffing his bag with books in four minutes - searching for his English supplementary reader took a while until he realised he'd left it in his locker - and found himself doing his hair in the mirror. He had always had jet black hair, and he sometimes parted it in the side, and sometimes didn't do anything with it, which were the times when Charlie used to whistle out a, "Look who looks like they had a morning quickie," because, well, she was Charlie Bradbury, his best friend. He ended up doing nothing to his hair, not because of Dean Winchester but because Charlie also said it made him look slightly less serious. He could do with looking a little less sombre, and since he wasn't going to give up on his dressing style, his hair was all he would do.

Finally done, he glanced at the watch - fourteen minutes - and walked out of his room. He hurried down the stairs - his room was on the first floor - and placed his bag on a couch in the living room before walking into the dining space, where Charles sat crouched over a crossword. 

Unusual for him - he was more of a read-the-cartoons and ditch-the-crossword guy - but Castiel was later informed that someone had told him that the word which formed with the second, fourth, third, first, and fifth letters of 22-across, 23-across, 24-across, 25-across and 26-across - respectively - was 'Chuck', the 'Mystery' word of the day.

"Good morning, dad." Castiel greeted, sitting down on a chair next to his father. Charles had not yet shaved - for that matter, he hadn't since a few days, since he nearing the end of the book he was working on - and had an unattended stubble on his face, and a sleepy look in his turtle-green eyes, and he didn't look up from the newspaper.

"'Morning, Castiel." He murmured, a frustrated look on his face.

Castiel leaned over to see the clue Charles was sweating on, and smiled. You'd think a famous author as him would know 25-across 'Bestseller by Cassandra Clare:- ____ of Fallen Angels'. But then, Charles wasn't your usual author. When he wasn't writing or thinking about his book - which left him with a shockingly small amount of time - he was either visiting his producer who was planning to make a movie of his book, or playing things on his laptop, like Minesweeper or occasionally, Hearts. Didn't really leave him much time to read novels.

Castiel had thought of informing Charles of him not taking the school bus and instead a ride with Dean Winchester, but he didn't want to disturb his father - somehow, he'd never had too close a relationship with him, unlike Gabriel - and decided to run it by him later. It wasn't anything major either. Just a friend giving him a lift to school. Perfectly casual. Except it was the first time anyone - other than Gabriel - had even offered, let alone Castiel agreed. Still, not a big deal. Castiel could've driven to school, but he chose against it to save fuel, and do his bit in conserving non-renewable energy, and opted for public transport, like the school-bus. Anyhow, it wasn't a big deal that he was going to school with Dean Winchester. Actually, in his car. Dean Winchester's car. And he'd actually be seen by people. And people might actually think that he an-

"City!" Charles yelled. "That's 25-across! 'City' of Fallen Angels."  He scribbled it onto the paper in unruly handwriting.

"That's right, Dad." Castiel grinned. 

"Now," Charles pursed his lips, now focussed on 26-across. "Subdivision of Ottoman Empire: ________ of Yanina." He clicked his pen on the table repeatedly, as if it helped him think. "What could that be?"

"Where's Gabriel?" Castiel inquired.

"Pancakes." Castiel correctly assumed that by this he meant that Gabriel was making pancakes and was not in one.

"Alright. I'll go say 'bye' to him before I leave." Castiel informed his father.

"Yeah." Charles muttered distractedly. "Bye, Castiel."

"Bye, dad." Castiel grinned, and stood up. "It's 'Pashalik' of Yanina, by the way."  He told Charles, the answer coming to him as swift as wind. It'd been said before: Castiel was great at Ancient History. 

"I forgot you were you," Charles grinned. "A genius, Castiel."

"That's not true." Castiel walked into the kitchen, and picked out the least fancy plate he could find and placed it next to Gabriel on the kitchen slab. Gabriel was still in his boxers, and a white roundneck, and had a strawberry pink apron tied around it, which - unsurprisingly - read 'Kiss the Chef'. It was only a surprise that he hadn't put on his white 'toque' and gloves. "Pancakes?" He asked politely.

"I was expecting a 'What's cooking, good looking?', you know," he replied with a shrug, piling two on Castiel's plate. "Although, in your voice, Cassidy, that works too." Castiel tut-tutted in response, and shifted his attention to his breakfast before his brain began forming absurd links. Gabriel snarkily complimenting his voice - Dean Winchester complimenting his voice, and calling it alarmingly sexy, the previous night - Dean Winchester's voice in itself - Dean Winchester. Somehow, his brain drew connections everywhere; connections to Dean.

"Why are you making breakfast, Gabe?" Castiel inquired, between bites. "I hope you remember you're still in highschool, and you aren't permitted to enter, after nine."

"Exactly." Gabriel winked. "What better excuse?"

"Of course." Castiel rolled his eyes. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you're the li'l good-one." Gabriel chuckled. "And I'm the older, awesome-r one."

"Of course." Castiel took another bite of his second pancake. He loved pancakes for breakfast. He wasn't particularly a food-aholic but he'd loved PB&Js, hamburgers, honey - with anything and everything -  and pancakes, not necessarily in that order, since he was a kid. Back when Charles was a mediocre guy in 'Sales' in some pharmaceuticals - not yet having inherited his fortune, or made his own on account of his series - and went by the name of 'Chuck' and Castiel was 8-year-old 'Cas'; that was all Chuck knew to make, and all they lived by. Then everyone grew up, and things flourished, and Gabriel turned out to be a great chef - better than his father and brother at any cost - and now insisted on cooking, rather than them hiring a chef. Only a maid would come in every Sunday to wash all the dishes, and do all the chores for the week. Then Gabriel moved out, and the rule stuck, because Charles hated snoopy housekeepers or chefs, and now, whenever Gabriel stayed the night, he made meals or else they ordered in from McDonald's - Castiel's Favorite - or other places Gabriel suggested. He always knew the best.

Lost in his reverie, Castiel finished both the pancakes on his plate. He was snapped back to reality by a car horn. Castiel jumped, suddenly aware that Dean had arrived. It could not be anyone else. He hurriedly stood up, and put the plate in the sink, where it would stay and be piled on, till next Sunday. "Hey, I gotta go."

"That was the school bus?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "They're picking you up directly from Paradise now?"

"That was my ride to school." Castiel said shortly, slinging his bag on his shoulder, as Gabriel followed him out of the kitchen to the living room.

"This is gonna be fun." Gabriel chuckled. "It is who I think it is, isn't it?"

"Shut up." Castiel frowned. "He's just giving me a ride, as a friend. We'r- We're saving fuel."

"And time." Gabriel offered. "Precious time which you'd spend in thinking about him on the school bus, before you met him in school; which you guys are saving by meeting right here. Genius."

"I don't have time for this." Castiel scowled deeper, and hurried out the door, before Dean began to think that he was already gone or not coming. "Bye, dad! Bye, Gabriel."

"Have a lovely time!" Gabriel yelled at the top of his lungs, from the front door, as Castiel almost jogged down the porch and front-lawn to Dean Winchester's car on the road. He didn't want Dean hearing any of Gabriel's nonsense.

Dean opened the door for him, from the inside, by stretching out his hand, and Castiel took his seat in the front. He closed the door, and was relieved that the windows were all up, and Gabriel only resembled a miming-monkey on the front door. He looked at Dean, turning almost halfways in his seat, and found himself - unsurprisingly - completely captivated by Dean being so close to him in the beautiful black car.

"'Morning, cherry-pie! Welcome to my ride!" Dean announced, following with the small chuckle which Castiel had not thought about since a very long time. "Meet 'Baby'." He tapped the dashboard, with an affectionate look.

"This is 'Baby'." Castiel repeated, with an unconscious smile, a predicament resolving itself, deep in his mind.

"Yeah." Dean grinned enthusiastically. "Isn't she beautiful?" Dean almost stroked the steering wheel. 

"She sure is." Castiel smiled at Dean's visible obsession with his car. "She's a Chevrolet, isn't she?" Castiel ventured, aware he would look like a fool were he wrong, but saying it nonetheless, because he'd never seen Dean more excited about anything, and he wanted more of it. That genuine grin which lit his face up, and that glint in his eyes.

"Yeah." Dean grinned broader. "A Chevy Impala, 1976 Model, Super Sport. Six-cylinder 7.0 L engine, 329 horsepower. First model to have a chrome-plated hood, black grille accents and black-accented body-side and rear fender moldings, with vinyl bucket seats and a center console. An- You didn't ask to hear all that, did you?"

Castiel merely shook his head. "I don't mind, though."

"In short," Dean grinned directly at Castiel; and Castiel forgot that they had to get to school and hadn't even started yet. He was content to have Dean's attention completely on him. "She's gorgeous. Not unlike you." He winked, suddenly a surprised expression on his face. "I forgot to tell you something, wait a second," He squinted his eyes, pretending to remember something. "What did I forget to say, what did I forget to say? Oh, yeah! You look great." Dean kept up the act, until Castiel almost chuckled like a nine-year-old. "And, one more thing...It was right there, and I forgot..what could it have been...oh, yes, I remember! You, look handsome!"

Castiel looked down at his modest sweater and casual t-shirt. "Could you stop, Dean?"

"I could do whatever you want me to do." Dean whispered, meaningfully, before clearing the air with a grin. "But I don't want to. It's fun to see you blush, cherry-pie."

"That reminds me," Castiel smiled, in spite of himself because from the corner of his eye, he'd seen Gabriel walk back into the house, perhaps disappointed that neither had he gotten to embarrass his little brother, nor catch him in the middle of any contact with Dean Winchester. They were just talking. "Where did that come from?"

"Oh, well, you remember," Dean grinned, turning the key in the engine. "You didn't wanna be called 'sweetheart' or 'honey'. And as I told you, this is 'Baby'. So, I thought hard and long, through the night, and in the morning, I woke up with the perfect name for you, on my lips, and in my mind." Dean cleared his throat dramatically. "You're my cherry-pie!" He sang, with a sidelong glance at Castiel.

Castiel kept quiet in response, straining to keep his eyes on the road.

"Hey!" Dean teased. "Your line?"

"I am not going to say 'I'm his cherry-pie', Dean." Castiel pointed out to Dean, struggling to keep the smile away.

"Why?" Dean complained. Something inside Castiel suddenly snapped. It was true he enjoyed Dean's presence. He was fun, hilarious, exciting. Nothing like what Castiel had ever expected Dean Winchester to be. But he was, and Castiel had to admit it. But every now and then, if not always, he was reminded of the fact that this was all a facade. A mask he was wearing, only for Castiel. A mask which Castiel was supposed to fall in love with. But it wasn't Dean Winchester, it was what he was being, for Castiel. And then he had the audacity - the sheer cheek - to ask 'why'. Castiel might be weak in the knees at Dean's embrace or melt at the sight of his smile, but he wasn't going to be played with. He'd decided that before, and he was going to stick to it.

"Forget about it." He muttered, looking out of his window, so that he didn't have to be looked at by Dean's eyes.

"Hey, everything alright?" Dean's hand touched Castiel's forearm. "Do you not like the nam- Did I say something wrong?" Castiel shook his head mutely. "Then, why-"

"Because this is all a dare, and I don't wanna go along with your stupid games and motives only so that you win the fucking dare, and I'm left a miserable idiot in love with you." Castiel blurted, before he could run it by himself inside his brain. He looked at Dean's face, trying to scan it for emotions. There were none. Dean turned his eyes on the road, and accelerated, causing Castiel to fall back in his seat.

Castiel stayed mute for a few minutes. He couldn't imagine what Dean would reply to that. Stop the car, throw him out, and never speak to him again? Ignore the outburst, and continue to 'pursue' him? Or-

"You actually think all this is a game?" Dean stared at Castiel, stopping the car suddenly. Castiel's eyes flitted on the road, as he launched forward in his seat, and he recognised the area as a street two streets away from school. His brain stopped working - right about when the words left Dean Winchester's lips. "You actually think all I'm doing is for a stupid dare? Is that how much of a son of a bitch I am, in your eyes, Novak?"

On receiving no reply, Dean continued, starting the car again, as if nothing happened, accelerating to his average speed, and keeping his eyes fixed on the road. In his desire to stare at Dean, Castiel didn't realise when he began to take the longer route to school.

Had Dean actually said that, Castiel's mind begun to process, and had he meant it? Was it part of the game? To make Castiel feel as if Dean's feelings were real - when they were not - and hence compel him to reciprocate. Castiel knew that if Dean Winchester actually felt any sort of attraction towards him - and he was sure that wasn't the case - it would all be even more of a big deal than it now was. But surely he was only kidding? Surely this was only a game, a part of the big scheme to fool Castiel, into making Castiel fall in love with him. Because, if not..NO. It had to be a part of Dean's plan. To make him fall in love with him. Which was seeming easier and easier by the minute.

But Castiel wasn't gonna do that. So he wasn't gonna go along with any of the crap Dean suggested. What's the harm in singing a line from a song, Castiel's brain reasoned, when you let him pick you up from your house, and mess with your brain? 

Several minutes passed.

No one spoke.

Castiel was paranoidly afraid that in the deadly silence, maybe each of his loud thoughts were audible. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, waiting and wanting Dean to say something. 

He had been in the middle of wondering how he would keep away from Dean for the rest of his life when Dean suddenly spoke up. "You want some music?" He asked, casually, his smile fit in place like it never had vanished.

Castiel stared at Dean in wonder. "U-uh, sure."

Dean left his left hand on the wheel and began rummaging through the CDs in his pile, his eyes flickering to the road and to the titles subsequently. "You got nothing against the Beatles, right?" He inserted the disk into the player, and drummed his fingers on the dashboard as the player tried to 'read' it.

"Of course not." Castiel replied vacantly. Had the whole awkwardness only happened in his brain? Because it sure seemed as if Dean had not even been in the same situation as him. His genial grin was back, and there was not a tint of hesitation or awkwardness in his gaze as he smiled at Castiel, cocking his head towards the player as the song begun to play.

A beautiful soulful music begun to play suddenly, filling the car.

Castiel recognised the song immediately. "Hey, Jude." He spoke quietly, as Paul McCartney's piano ballad made him smile, in spite of the turmoil within him. 

"Yeah." Dean mouthed, as if afraid saying something would destroy the atmosphere the song had created. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Castiel was almost sure now, that the whole outburst had been a figment of his imagination. Dean didn't seem to be unfazed, or even affected by any of it now. If he had been silent and broody earlier, he was only grinning and drumming the wheel with the slow beat now. "I love it." He mumbled. He'd listened to it a lot of times before, almost as much as he'd listened to The Cure, or Kansas.

"It's my favourite." Dean spoke suddenly, as the song neared an end. They'd been silent for almost a few minutes, but they were sharing the silence, and the lyrics. It was beautiful. Almost like they were sharing the beauty of the song.

"I am surprised." Castiel replied, unthinkingly. He was now definite that he had spaced out, that the dialogue and the situation had happened in his mind. Dean must've been kidding, Castiel had taken the words with way more impact than they should've caused. It was stupid how shattered Castiel had been.

"Why, I seem more of an Eminem-Shake-That-Ass guy, huh?"

"Aren't you?" Castiel stared at Dean, everything forgotten in the moment of truth.

Dean shrugged. "Maybe I am. But I'm also an Eminem-Forever guy." He grinned. "Heard it before?"

"Obviously." Castiel grinned back, mirroring Dean's smile. 

Another moment of silence passed.

"My mom used to sing it to me when I.." His voice faltered. "My mom sang 'Hey, Jude' to me when she was..still alive."

Castiel remained silent. "To get you to sleep?"

Dean nodded. The song ended. "She sang it for the last time, to me, the night she died. I was four then. It's been my favorite song since..then."

"Not surprised anymore." Castiel almost whispered. Then, shut himself up and clenched his fist, before he could put a hand on Dean's knee like he wished to do at the moment, or say something more mushy.

"I guess a favourite song always needs a sad backstory to be considered appropriate." Dean spoke almost bitterly.

"That's not true." Castiel tried to smile, and it was much easier than he imagined to do so. "It could just be a song which makes you feel good. Or one you relate to." Dean looked straight at the road, wordlessly. Castiel irked to make him smile again. How quickly the situation had changed. Was he not wondering, just a few minutes ago, how to stay away from Dean for the rest of his life? Or how he detested Dean and his gang for the dare? Because it was all blurry at the moment; everything he could think of at the moment was to get Dean talking again. Having no mother at four years must've been a difficult experience. He had to have had a supportive father to turn out alright. But something also told him it wasn't the time to talk about that. He strived to change the topic. "Say, my favorite song? Pictures of you, by the Cu-"

"Cure!" Dean turned excitedly. "Really? I love it too!" Dean almost swerved dangerously, as he devoted his attention to the pile again. He produced the CD containing Castiel's favourite song a moment later. "Here, put this in."

Castiel did, and waited as the song begun. He smiled broadly, as the different yet appealing music filled the space. "I've been looking so long at these pictures of you..." He softly sang along, forgetting he was in Dean's car and not his own room.

"That I almost believe that they're real..." Dean sang the next line, and Castiel turned to him with his eyes wide. His voice was beautiful. Castiel had always liked Dean's voice - sue him for being truthful to himself - but while singing, it was..well, melodious. Not even just pleasant, or soulful, but melodious. "I've been living so long with these pictures of you..." He cocked his head at Castiel, gesturing at him to sing along too.

It was as if Castiel's sudden singing had broken the ice.

"That I almost believe the pictures are, all I can feel..." Both of them sang together, their voices in harmony but still so different. Castiel found himself staring at Dean before he knew it. By the time the song ended - a song which both of them had sung each line to - they were on the School street. Lawrence High was only a minute away.

"What else do you like?" Dean asked, with a grin, as they neared the schoolgates. "Elvis?"

"Sure!" Castiel nodded his head enthusiastically. They were talking like they knew each other since long, now. Nobody noticed when the transition occurred. "You like Bruno Mars?"

"Am I human?" Dean drawled.

"I'm gonna take that as a 'yes'." Castiel grinned broader.

"And I'm gonna take your question as an affirmation that you too like Bruno Mars," Dean grinned, and Castiel didn't even notice as they passed the school gates. He was too busy observing Dean's grin broaden. "And play 'Count on me' for you."

He put in the CD, and the song begun to play. 

"You do have versatile tastes from all over the ages." Castiel informed Dean, as Dean bobbed his head to 'You can Count on Me, like One, Two, Three, I'll be there...'

"This is fun!" Dean smirked. "You have great music tastes, Castiel! I never knew!"

"I didn't know our tastes were so similar either, Dean." Castiel smiled. "Or that you could sing so well."

"Well, it has been a long time since I sang, I forgot I was so good at it." Dean winked.

"That was unnecessary." Castiel frowned.

"Yeah, but it was the perfect way for me to introduce you to Led Zeppelin!" Dean grinned. "Rock and roll!" He began rummaging through the CDs again.

"Introduce me?" Castiel smirked confidently. "I'm fairly sure you won't be introducing me to anything, Winchester." Castiel cleared his throat, and begun to sing along to the record. "It's been a long time since I Rock and Rolled! It's been a long time since I did the Stroll! It's..."

"Wow, you're good." Dean raised his eyebrows. "What about 'Whole Lotta Love'?"

"I might not have been 'living under the spotlight and everyone's envious glances'," he drew air-quotes, at Dean's quote from the previous night, which floated to his memory in a jiffy. "But I haven't been living under a rock either."

"Touche." Dean winked.

This went on for a few more songs of Beatles, Elvis, Led Zeppelin and Metallica.

Castiel - accidentally - glanced at his watch, right when Dean was searching for 'Jailhouse Rock' and his eyes widened. "Dean!" He almost yelled out. "It's ten past nine!"

"Time flies when you're-"

"Don't say, when 'you're with me'.' Castiel chuckled, in spite of being late.

"Alright. When we're together." Dean smirked, proud of himself.

"Come on, Dean!" He urged. "It's not the time! We're late! We're not gonna get inside!"

Dean had taken a 'U' and they were back in front of the school now. Dean winked at Castiel with an over-exaggerated 'Shh' and stopped the car right in front of the gate, and lowered the window glass, putting his elbow out. The guard walked out to his window, with a frown. Castiel waited.

"Hi, Jeff." Dean flashed him his most dazzling smile. "I'm so sorry we're late. It was kind of an emergency. You think we can enter?"

The guard hesitated. "Emergency?"

"Yeah. Private." Dean put his other hand - which was in his pocket - out to the guard. The guard uncertainly shook it, but let go of it with a small smile on his face. "You know the stupid office guys; school starts from nine thirty, then why close the gates at nine? Do you think we can be allowed?"

"I think it'll be alright." The guard, with an incomprehensible look on his bearded face, opened the gate. Dean did a beautiful swerve to park his Baby in her parking slot. And did it with a flourish. He looked at Castiel.

"Now, what do you think of that, cherry-pie?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

"I don't get it." Castiel scrunched his nose, and scowled. "The guard usually lets no one enter past nine! And we're ten minutes late!"

"Well, I'm me, aren't I?" Dean exhaled, with a dramatic sigh.

"The guard must know you from somewhere," Castiel tried. "You didn't even have to offer him money?"

Dean laughed. "You're very intelligent, so I've heard Castiel, but you're clearly not the most observant bulb in the box." Dean smirked, putting his hand in his pocket and bringing out a ten-dollar note. "I shook hands with him, didn't I?"

It made sense to Castiel now. His eyes widened, as he thought of cursing aloud at his own stupidity. "Oh my god, I'm such an idiot."

"No, you're not." Dean crossed his arms across his chest with a grin. "I'm just really good at it."

"Shut up." Castiel rolled his eyes in response. "You know, every line that comes out of your mouth needn't be a compliment to me or yourself."

"Really?" Dean feigned surprise. "I thought it was compulsory, you genius!" He winked, adding it on purpose.

Castiel found himself chuckling. He glanced at his watch again, music forgotten at the moment. "Alright, thanks for the ride, Dean. But I got to get to class now."

"Yeah, cool." Dean got out of his car, and Castiel followed, closing the door with a slam. "What class d'ya got first, cherry-pie?"

"Business Studies." Castiel recalled, slinging his bag on his shoulder, trying - without meaning to - to do it as effortlessly as Dean did. "With Rowena MacLeod."

"My sympathies with you." He did a little courtesy mockingly. Then, he glanced towards the school building himself. "I'd usually walk you to the locker, out of chivalry and my desire to spend more time with you and coming to know where your locker is; but I gotta get to the field. I got practise."

"Football?" Castiel asked, stupidly, regretting it. Of course football, he cursed to himself.

"No, Quidditch." He grinned sarcastically, and Castiel's face lit up like a lamp switched on at the Harry Potter reference. At a point of time in the point, he had been obsessed with the series. Now, not entirely, but it still excited him.

"You've heard of Quidditch?" He pressed his lips together to avoid the childish smile he knew would sprout up.

"From Sammy," he shrugged in response. "It's a wizardry game, isn't it? Did I use it wrongly?"

"No, Dean, you used it correctly." Castiel smiled. "Your brother's a fan of J. K. Rowling?"

"Massive." Dean smiled back. "He's a total nerd, that kid. It's always curious how the brother of such an awesome person turned out to be such a nerd." He added, not unkindly, and rather proudly.

Castiel noticed that, but kept up the joke. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah, it's like I got the beauty and he's got the brains." Dean winked, and Castiel stared unabashedly - until he realised he was staring and looked away abashedly. "And the poor third kid was left with neither."

"Adam?" Castiel was surprised.

"Yeah," Dean smiled vacantly. Castiel noticed, but didn't remark anything. He merely smiled in return, not really thinking much. He found himself being like that around Dean. It was weird yet fun at the same time. "Anyhow, you wanna come watch practise? Coach Bobby could sign a note for you to show to Rowena later, if I asked nicely." He winked again.

Castiel considered this. "I'm sure that'd be fun, but I'm not bunking a class, Dean."

"Of course." Dean raised his eyebrows again. "Well, I'll not insist, because clearly that's important to you." Castiel's eyes almost popped out of their sockets at the genuineness of the sentence. "So, well, I'll see you later!"

"Yes, of course, Dean." Castiel managed, as Dean stuffed his car keys - silver keys with a 'M' keychain - into his bagpack, doing so while wearing them; hence resulting in his T-shirt climbing up a few inches, offering Castiel a look at Dean's toned muscles. He looked away too quickly for it to have had no effect on him. 

"Maybe in the lunchhall or something," Dean suggested, beginning to walk away, and turning back only when Castiel had let out a breath he'd had no idea he was holding. "I'll text you."

"Sure." Castiel's smile faded, as the terrors of texting resurfaced in his mind. "Yeah, I'll...text you too."

"Wait, that reminds me," Dean suddenly turned, and walked back up to Castiel, nearing close until Castiel sucked in a breath, just in case. "You could just have told me, you didn't like texting, instead of replying to me, cherry-pie. I wouldn't have minded listening to your gorgeous voice instead."

Had he been that transparent, Castiel thought to himself in alarm. "I-I like texting." Dean's face showed that he knew better than to believe him. Castiel added, in a moment of despair, "Emoticons?"

Dean's face crinkled into a smile, as he took a few steps back. "Sure you do." He yelled, in a very unbelieving voice, as Castiel mutinously stuck out his lip and thought to himself exactly what had given him away. His texting? No, that couldn't be. He was sure he texted well. Castiel stared, uncertainly, at Dean's figure walking away, before he himself began to walk too; relieved underneath the confused exterior, that he won't have to go through the strenuous process again.

Nevertheless, Dean Winchester, a man of his words, never texted Castiel Novak again.

***

The next time Castiel met Dean was in the Chemistry Practicals.

Castiel's day had passed quickly enough, with thoughts of Dean in his head - he had tried to help it -  as he went about his usual Monday classes. After Business Studies with Rowena MacLeod, he'd had Mathematics with Mr. Cain - not something he particularly enjoyed, but it'd been bearable, because Charlie had been with him - and then Gym - Physical Education, according to the sheet - with Mr. Singer. Castiel wasn't a jock but then neither was Kevin - who fortunately shared his timetable for the day - and they'd spent the entire period discussing the pros of the application Kevin was using for his SAT preparations. Mr. Singer had probably seen them, Castiel wondered later, but he hadn't said a word, and wasn't really the mean kind of teacher who'd give you detention for the crap of it - it's a known fact those kind of teachers do exist, don't deny it - so Castiel didn't worry too much. 

Throughout Gym, he'd thought about Dean again; Dean on the football field, in his captain's jersey, ordering players about the field- that was how it worked, Castiel mused, didn't it? - and winning matches for Lawrence High. Castiel had finally succeeded to push the thoughts of Dean - Dean Winchester, all sweaty and red-faced, wearing a helmet, and his bright-green eyes peering put of the grills and crinkling as he smiled at Castiel - and focussed on Kevin, as he excitedly bounced about, talking about his passion.

Then, had been Lunch.

Castiel had sat at his regular table - a small table for six in the far corner of the hall, often called the 'Nobody's' table - with Charlie, and Kevin (Garth had spent Lunch in detention for some reason). He'd tried to not look in the direction of the popular table, and when he'd given in to his senses and had looked, after the first ten minutes, he'd discovered that Dean was nowhere to be seen. Everybody else was in place - Crowley and Ketch arguing about something, Anna talking in exaggerated hand gestures to Lisa and Jo, Sam sitting quietly in the corner with his nose buried in a book, and a few other regular-faces eating and talking at the same time, the usual scene - but Dean Winchester wasn't anywhere to be seen. Then, he did appear after half the period was spent away, sweating like a dog, and had sat down quietly to eat, wordlessly. Their eyes had never even met, and the disappointment Castiel felt probably showed on his face, because Charlie noted it immediately. 

Which, subsequently, led to Castiel confessing the events of the previous night and that day, to his friends, in bouts and pesterings.

About the dare, among other things, Charlie had grinned and informed Castiel that there was nothing quiet so 'cliché' she'd ever heard of happening in real life. She'd later laughed at his description of his discomfort at being hugged by Dean - Castiel still couldn't process the hilarity of it - and Kevin had agreed with Castiel when he'd talked about how he said 'yes' to Dean giving him a lift, because it was not a big deal, although Charlie had once again scoffed. At the end of his long narration, Charlie had declared that there wasn't really a better way to bond than by sharing music and tastes, and Kevin had nodded. Castiel had dismissed it as their desire to irk him. They weren't bonding - how ridiculous did that sound? - they just...were friends now. Perhaps. Maybe. Almost.

Hence, he'd divulged everything to Charlie and Kevin, not really feeling much better following Charlie's giggling running commentary to everything and Kevin's approval to almost all of Charlie's views. Charlie declared it was the most exciting thing to ever happen to Castiel, and that he should enjoy it while it lasted. Castiel had informed her, that that was ridiculous - what did she even mean by 'while it lasted'? In any case, was it used in the context as to 'till Dean completed his dare'? - and promised to walk away if Charlie spoke of that again. 

Which she did, and he, as promised, walked off to his next class; followed by a still chuckling Charlie Bradbury.

The next class, was Science Practicals, and Castiel was a part of the group going for Chemistry Practicals. Fortunately, Charlie went into Physics, and that was all Castiel had to face of the master-hacker-who-seemed-to-have-the-unerring-ability-to-know-exactly-what-Castiel-was-trying-to-not-show.

He was in the middle of an experiment - Experiment 2.3: Objective: To test the pH level of the magnesium hydroxide solution - and was holding the magnesium ribbon by a pair of tongs in the outermost - blue - part of the Bunsen Burner's flame, when he was disturbed by a familiar figure; a husky yet smooth voice whispering words in his ear, and layers-clad arms  wrapping around him, the right one around his right wrist and vice versa. 

"Bonjour, cherry-pie." Dean Winchester quite literally breathed down Castiel's shirt, his face so close to Castiel's, that their cheeks would've brushed at the slightest movement, and his lips, if leaned in even an inch more, would've touched Castiel's earlobe.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel shuddered from tip to toe, feeling the goosebumps on his own skin, and regretting the fact that Dean was close enough to actually feel them, let alone see. "M-move." He added, in almost a whisper.

"Why?" Dean teased, and Castiel heard him smiling as he spoke. "Is this making you uncomfortable? Me holding you like this?"

"Yes, Dean." Castiel muttered, feeling as if all eyes in the room were on him.

"Well, you only ever have to say that, and I'll move." Dean gave Castiel's arm a light squeeze before pulling apart and doing a full turn - as if on invisible skates - to lean against Castiel's table. "But whenever you wish for me to do so again," There was that unavoidable little chuckle, "Just gimme a cue, alright? Maybe like a signal. We should decide something. How about you licking your lips, like you do sometimes; that could be my cue. Or, you could wink? Or pinch me - on my ass, I mean?"

Castiel, having no idea what would be the appropriate answer to that, him; who now leaned more, casually, on the table where several strong acids, bases, and other solutions were kept in glass flasks.

"How was your day?" Dean grinned like a Cheshire Cat, his eyes not leaving Castiel as he continued to hold the ribbon to the flame; Castiel felt his gaze, and resisted the urge to look back.

"Good." Castiel answered, not facing Dean. "Business Studies, Math, Gym. What about you?"

"Awesome." Dean grinned broader. "And in your pattern of answer, Practise, Practise, Practise." Castiel looked up at Dean quizzically. "Combined with running between History, English, and Biology classes to hand notes to the teachers, signed by Bobby, saying I won't be able to attend their classes."

"So, you haven't been in class since morning?" Castiel repeated, amazed. "You've been practising football since when we separated? And...Bobby?"

"Mr. Singer." Dean shrugged. "Mr. Robert Singer. Mr. Bobby Singer. Bobby." He demonstrated how he reached the name he called him. "He's an...old family friend. Neighbors, before. Known each other since kids. Since I was a kid, I mean, because when he was a kid, I'm not sure houses were yet discovered, you know, for us to be in neighboring ones."

"Oh." Castiel politely smiled.

"And in answer to your other questions, yep." Dean grinned again. "No class since morning. I took a break for about fifteen minutes in the second period, you know, a-short-shower-and-snack break. Then returned to the field, played hard in the sun, and came back for lunch. Didn't see you though," Dean scrunched his nose and paused, as if waiting for Castiel to speak.

"Me neither." Castiel lied.

"Well, I'll keep a better lookout for heavenly crystal blue eyes, tomorrow, when I'm more human than field-animal." Dean laughed at his own joke.

"And, I'll keep a lookout for someone searching for me." Castiel replied, pleased at his answer, especially since it invoked a large grin from Dean.

"Anyways," Dean resumed. "I realised, then, that I missed you," he paused, again, and winked at Castiel. "About that, did you miss me too?"

"I was busy, Dean." Castiel replied.

"That's not an answer." Dean half-smiled, as if victorious.

"Well, no, I did not miss you." Castiel changed his answer, raising an eyebrow warily.

"Now, well, that is a very badly-spoken lie." Dean pointed with his finger at Castiel's mouth, and then resumed his story. "So, yeah, I realised then, that I missed you with your little mannerisms of ignoring me, and your pretty, pretty face, so here I am!"

"So, you've got Chemistry Practicals, too?" Castiel's ribbon, as if on cue on being brought into conversation again, finally began to burn, and he partially shielded his eyes, from the blinding white flame which magnesium produces on burning.

"No." Dean shrugged, still staring at the burning ribbon.

Almost irritably, Castiel noticed this, and not his words, and pushed Dean's arm, to make him turn towards him. "You're not supposed to stare at that."

Dean grinned, and almost like a kid, who'd been told not to do something, turned his head towards the flame again.

"You'll damage your eyes." Castiel muttered, moving away the pair of tongs from Dean's sight. "I bet they're already hurting, you know."

"You're right, it does hurt." Dean spoke, after a moment of curiously blinking his own eyes, ad rubbing them with his thumbs, during which Castiel was transferring the white powder formed - Magnesium Oxide - onto a petridish, carefully, using a plane knife.

Castiel turned immediately, his work forgotten. "Seriously?" His eyes widened. Dean was such an idiot.

"Do you see the black spots I do?" Dean murmured, and Castiel only almost shook with tension. 

"No, idiot! Are you alright?" Castiel slapped away Dean's hand from his eyes - Dean was made to lean further on the tale, his back arching, and Castiel pushed him downwards to examine him - and pulled down Dean's eyelid, to expose his eye. He didn't know what it was supposed to show, but he did the opposite too; his other hand cupping Dean's face. "Hey, hey, does it still hurt?"

Dean leaned into Castiel's hand, which was covering half of his jaw. "No, not really." He let out another chuckle. "I was only kidding. But I could get used to this."

Castiel pulled away his hand like lightening, embarrassed to a condition where he was almost the same color as his lips. He glared at Dean. "That was a joke..?"

Dean nodded, his eyes glinting mischievously.

"You-" Castiel stopped himself in the middle of cursing at him. "Stultus." He finished, turning back to his petridish, to finish his experiment by adding water to the powder, and then using the litmus paper.

"What's that?" Dean grinned, unaffected from Castiel's anger directed at him.

"Latin." Castiel smiled, almost smugly. Dean grinned. 

"Oh, my lover's a linguist." He cooed, making Castiel want to make him shut up, by pressing his lips together with his hands, if that were a method, to prevent the rest of the class, tables apart, from hearing him. "Oh, I'm so lucky to have a lover, so vastly talented!"

"Could you stop?" Castiel started on him, fighting to keep his voice suppressed, and resulting in making it sound more like a growl than anything else. "With the stupid jokes, and lewd comments, an-and loud ridiculous declarations of love!" He lowered his voice even further. "You're...disturbing the class."

"Frankly, cherry-pie," Dean smiled, displaying his dimples. "You're the only one who's actually doing the stuff. You, and that one chick in the first row. The rest are goofing about, on their phones, or attached to each other's faces," he paused, to shrug. "And first-row-chick is too far away to mind me. Plus, the teacher, what's-his-name, is practically uninterested in the class. I mean, I'm not even a student of this class and he lemme enter when I asked."

Castiel sighed. "Well, that's all fine, Dean, but I am working."

Dean eyed Castiel carefully for a moment. Then shrugged. "Sure, sweetheart." He sat down on a chair, his elbows propped up on Castiel's table. "You work; I'll sit here, looking at you, and not being a distraction, alright?"

How can you not be one, Castiel spoke to himself, when you look like that? But at the moment, he nodded his head curtly, and even offered Dean a small smile. "Disturbance, not distraction."

"We both know what the truth is." Dean grinned, and rested his chin against his hand. "Do your science thing, genius; I will sit here, wait for you to complete."

Castiel resisted the urge to smile, as he proceeded to pour water using a droplet into the petridish, feeling Dean's eyes follow each of his moments with an excitement he couldn't - and didn't want to - explain.

"If you need my help," Dean spoke up, a few minutes later, as Castiel picked out a red litmus paper from the box. "All you've gotta do is ask, partner."

"Partner?" Castiel smiled clearly. "You're my lab-partner?"

"If it means getting to work with a gorgeous genius as you, I'm willing to join this class, and even not bunk it." Dean cocked his head, indirectly answering Castiel's question.

The morning's dialogue - "You actually think all I'm doing is for a stupid dare" - flashed in Castiel's mind, but he pushed it away. He'd long decided it was nothing. Perhaps it only happened in his over imaginative mind. 

"I already have a partner," Castiel instead spoke out, not really understanding why he would do so. "Garth," he added unnecessarily.

"Well, he just got replaced." Dean shrugged, nonchalantly. "I'll make sure you don't miss him."

Castiel's mind did a quick - and highly ridiculous - comparison of Dean and Garth's appearances. Dean, a football-captain with a muscular physique and dark blonde hair, and Garth, a skinny computer geek like Charlie, with mousy brown hair. He immediately felt bad about it for comparing his friend to someone like Dean Winchester, and bit his lip.

"Unlike you, he actually helped me." Castiel informed Dean, urged to do some justice to Garth in his brain.

"Well, I told you, all you gotta do is ask." Dean pursed his lips. Castiel frowned. Dean continued, "I'll search out red litmus for you, or hold the petridish as you dip the paper in it." He elaborated.

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "He also wrote notes." He mumbled.

"What a sheer waste of my talents," he laughed with a vacant smile in place, and picked up a pen and Castiel's journal.

For a moment, and Castiel regretting this later, he hesitated. What if Dean wrote something wrong? It was his journal after all, one of the best-kept ones in school. Errors wou-

"I'll not write crap in your journal," Dean's face was almost hurt. Castiel immediately felt a pang in his chest.

"I never said anything..." He tried.

"Yeah, but you were thinking about it." Dean looked at the pen in his hand. "If you want, I'll not write notes. I'll go awa-"

"It's fine." Castiel said, a bit too hurriedly. "You can fill my journal. I know you'll d-do it all correctly." How he knew it, he had no idea, but he wanted the sad look away from Dean's eyes. "I know you'll not make errors. I..I believe in you. Don't go away."

"Believe in me," Dean pursed his lips. "Why would you do that?" But there was something incomprehensible in his look.

It was Castiel's turn to shrug. "Because you're not stupid."

"And how do you know if I am or not?"

"I have absolutely no idea." Castiel replied, truthfully. For a moment, they both stared at each other. Castiel didn't know what Dean was thinking; only that he was thinking nothing at the moment. Just...looking. Experiencing.

Dean shrugged back. "Okay," he drawled out. "Let's get to it."

Castiel turned his head back to his experiment; successfully turning the red litmus blue by his solution, and proving that magnesium hydroxide, which formed by mixing magnesium oxide and dihydrogen monoxide (water) was in fact, an alkalic solution, having a pH number of over 7.

None of them spoke a word for the rest of the period, as Castiel finished the second experiment too - a neutralisation reaction between hydrochloric acid and sodium bicarbonate - and then carried his beaker, containing the result of his experiment, to the teacher who inattentively, smiled and drew a tick against Castiel's name in the class sheet. Dean, meanwhile, had his head on his arm, as his right arm with the pen worked away on the paper, his eyes not even looking up for an instant.

When the class bell rang, Castiel returned to his table, with a huge grin, to find Dean folding his arms over what all he'd written, and doing something on his phone.

"Hey, class over." Castiel informed Dean, touching his hand, to make him look at him.

Dean looked up, with a jolt, and immediately smiled. Castiel had no idea how a guy could smile as much as Dean Winchester did, at least, to him. "I finished the notes." Dean pushed Castiel's journal towards Castiel, who turned it 180 degrees to look at it the right way. Dean put down his phone - with an open screen - on the table, and stood up. He stretched, his muscles flexing, and Castiel had to strain not to look at him as he did so, and focus his attention on the notes.

Castiel was engrossed in reading through each line of Dean Winchester's meticulously written words, in his clear, if somewhat haphazard letters. He reached the last line, in about two minutes, and found that he'd been smiling as he read. He didn't regret it, because Dean was smiling hugely too, with a glint in his eyes, and a hopeful look on his face.

"Great." Castiel complimented, wanting to squeal as the grin on Dean's face broadened. "You even wrote about Proust's contributions to the laws of neutralisation. That's not even in our syllabus this year! You've actually studied this well before!"

"Sammy's a freshman." Dean replied, as if that answered everything. He added, at Castiel's confused face, "He studies a lot, and we're around each other alone, too much for me to ignore him, however much I try."

Castiel grinned. "Well, it paid off. The notes are great." Better than Garth, he wanted to say, but didn't. "Thank you, Dean."

"My pleasure, Castiel." Dean rubbed the back of his neck, almost shyly, his eyes glancing all over the room.

Castiel placed the journal back on his table, closing it neatly, and his eyes momentarily glanced at the blaring screen of Dean's phone. 'Stultus in english' the Google Search read. Castiel resisted the urge to laugh, as the translation 'Idiot' was displayed as the answer.

He looked up at Dean, who'd caught him in his act.

"So, I'm a Stultus, huh?" Dean pouted - a beautiful scene for Castiel - in a mockingly angry voice. "What happened to 'Because you're not stupid', huh?" He imitated Castiel's voice, lowering his down several octaves.

"There's a difference." Castiel defended. "Between stupid and idiot."

"What exactly is that difference?" Dean teased.

"That you're not stupid, but you are an idiot." Castiel pressed his lips together to not let a smile overcome his features.

Dean rolled his eyes. "That's genius." He looked at his watch. "What class do you have next?"

"Physics," he groaned out, almost. 

"Ugh," Dean reciprocated. "Campbell?"

"Yes." Castiel pursed his lips. "What do you have?"

"Guess what?" Dean told him with a wink. "I'll give you a hint; when I'm not on the field, I'm in your classes, cherry-pie."

"You've got Physics too?" Castiel asked. "And who, may I ask, made that decision for you?"

"Why, I did, myself!" Dean grinned back.

"Alright," Castiel decided not to argue. "Let's go. He won't let us enter late. And your handshake thing won't work with him."

Dean smiled his agreement. "Hey! I'll walk you to class!" 

"Yeah, you do that." He replied sarcastically.

"It's the first time we're doing that!" Dean grinned. "Isn't it like a big step in our relationship?"

"Again, not a relationship, Dean." Castiel deadpanned, enjoying the routine more than he'd like to admit.

"You want my speech again?"

"No." 

"Then don't 'not' call this a relationship."

"Can we just go?" Castiel grinned, almost staring at Dean's mock serious face.

"Alright!" He almost cheered, and they walked the rest of the way to class, conversing about all topics, from football to Chemistry, and Elvis Presley to Ed Sheeran, as if they'd known each other since ages. Maybe, Charlie had been right. They'd bonded, whether over music or Chemistry, Castiel had no idea, only that they did. And it wasn't anything but a profound bond. But not just profound, as in deep. Also profound, as abstruse.

And that day, Castiel learned something new, and impressive, about Dean. 

That he may be a Stultus, but he wasn't stupid.

And Castiel Novak, at the end of this schoolday, came to see Dean Winchester under a different light. A different light, which hid his false pretentions and showcased his talents, be it on the field as a hardworking player or in class as an intelligent student. 

And, a light which brought out the beautiful green emeralds in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading; do leave comments if possible, it's great to read comments!!! The next chapter will be up as soon as possible. And if you think this one's long, the next one...*insert evil laughter here*...is longer! Bye-bye, have a great day!


	3. "I could've kicked his ass alone, but together, we could've beat his ass six ways to Sunday."

Following that day in school, it had almost become like a routine.

If you call, doing something in a more or less similar manner, for about ten days, that.

Castiel would wake up to Asia like every morning, but it was followed, only minutes later, by Dean's phone call. He'd talk about weird unnecessary stuff for a while - like how he dreamed of Castiel, while Castiel pursed his lips and refused to answer with the truthful 'Me Too' which he should have - and then tell Castiel that he was going to pick him up for school. Castiel would give him an affirmation and then proceed to get ready. 

Some days, when Castiel had woke up feeling particularly fond - fond doesn't express anything more than friendly liking, he kept repeating to himself, now and then - of Dean Winchester, he'd put in an extra effort in getting ready, and properly comb his hair or put on one of Gabriel's t-shirts. But then, once Dean had seen him in a band shirt, with his hair parted at the side and gelled, he'd remarked how he liked Castiel whatever he might wear and that he thus needn't wear stuff which wasn't 'him' only for Dean, and Castiel had resorted to blushing to avoid any further comments on the object, and proceeded to dress like the weirdo he was; plain t-shirts with the rare brand logo which Castiel detested, because it was in a way showing-off his money to come to school wearing an Armani or a Dior tee - and yes, they did made roundnecks as Castiel wore, perhaps Gabriel had forced them to as of when he didn't wear leather jackets and stuff to school and was just a normal Freshman who wanted everything he owned to be classy - sweaters of weird shades of blue, red, and green, and his trenchcoat.

Then, after getting ready, Castiel would proceed downstairs, and spend a few minutes with his Dad and Gabriel - when he was there in the morning - and soon enough - sometimes even half an hour before required - the Impala would be outside his door. 

Dean had religiously made it a point to blare his music at the most volume which humans can hear without their eardrums bursting or their brains getting screwed. But Castiel usually didn't mind; their tastes were, they came to discover, more similar than just being fans of the same famous singers. 'You know, a guy has tastes like you when you have the same songs on your deserves-to-be-famouser or guilty-pleasure playlists,' Dean had informed Castiel preachily, one day, and been rewarded by a bright blue-eyed grin.

Some days, Sam would be with Dean in the car. In those cases, Castiel had to sit in the back, because Sam always sat shotgun, but Castiel enjoyed being a silent spectator of the brotherly moments that took place - albeit, rarely - in the front seat. He'd also come to enjoy Sam's company, and realise he and Dean were vastly different yet similar. Sam was lesser of an extrovert, but he could be just as talkative as Dean at times; Sam was passionate about the things he cared, while Dean mostly had a fuck-me-if-I-care attitude, but both of them were very good at the things they liked. And, also, Dean was the more 'obvious kind of beautiful' - Hannah's words, not his - while you had to be with Sam for a while before you properly begun to gauge the beauty in his soft brown 'puppy dog' eyes, and ready smile with dimples all over the place. Although, Castiel had replied to her, if you were to ask Becky or Amanda or Jess, the answer would be quite different.

To Castiel, though, to be truthful, Sam was handsome in a boyish kind of way, with his shy smile, and overgrown hair. Dean, well, Dean was handsome in every way known to man - liking one's physical features is not the same as liking one in itself - and it was proving difficult to stop himself from spewing it out in front of Dean.

Once, in school, Dean and Castiel would meet, only some of the time. Dean, who was hoping to get a sports scholarship the next year was already training hard and could be found on the field a lot of the time of the day, and with Castiel, the rest. Following the day when he'd written notes in Castiel's Lab journal, he'd always show up in the Chemistry Practicals - Garth had been told, not too unkindly, to find another partner - and he later made it a point to show up in History too, judging how Castiel was always excited about it, and Dean claimed he liked seeing Castiel with that 'kinda-rare' excited look on his face.

They'd also meet occasionally in Lunch. More like, their eyes would. They'd never sat together in Lunch yet. A lot of the Lunch periods, Dean wouldn't even show up. A couple of times, Castiel was prompted to ask him about it, but he never really did. Other times, he would show up and propose that they sit on Dean's table - also known as, the Popular-People table - and Castiel would politely refuse, since he 'must also spend time with his friends, Charlie, Kevin and Garth' and Dean would give in like a gentleman. Castiel suspected that was only because Dean didn't really wanna be seen with him and was only offering to be polite, but then his own brain would reason, that if he didn't wanna be seen with him, why would he give him a lift to-and-from school and always wave at him in the stands during a game - there had been two as of yet, and Lawrence High had won each one.

After school, Dean would again drop Castiel home in his car; which included more music, innuendos, and unexplained moments of staring into each other's eyes.

And then the rest of the day would pass by in a blurring speed - Homework, and Charles' publishing date was coming closer, and Charlie dropped in on alternate days for her supposed 'History tuitions' with Castiel, which turned out to be get-togethers where Charlie would tease Castiel about Dean, after Castiel told her of all which happened that particular couple of days. Occasionally, Kevin would crash these. Anyhow, it'd soon be time to go to bed, and fall asleep while thinking of some weirdly amazing thing Dean Winchester did-slash-said.

And then Castiel would wake up to Asia again, and the whole cycle would begin again.

Castiel was pretty happy with things the way they were, and somehow he only rarely thought of the 'Dare' thing - surprisingly, these rare moments were never when he was with Dean, but when he was in solitude - but it occasionally disturbed him that his friendship with Dean might just go away any moment. Any moment, when Castiel fell in love with him. Dean would be on his way. Probably forget that Castiel ever existed. The feeling filled him with dread, and each time he thought of this, he came out of his reverie with a stronger resolution of not falling in love with Dean, come what may.

And, perhaps he felt, these resolutions were the only reason, that that didn't happen.

And the thought was terrifying. Beyond his imagination.

***

It was one of these days - another cold day of November; nearing the end of the month - that something happened which changed Castiel's perception of Dean forever. 

Actually, three such things happened. You know how they say? Strike three; you're out.

Sure enough, at 8:35 am, the Impala's familiar honk informed him that Dean had reached. Castiel hastily called out a goodbye to his dad - who was neck-deep in manuscript-final-edit-mode, and didn't even reply - and slinging his bag on one shoulder, rushed out to meet Dean.

He noticed, with a mixture of emotions, that Sam was in the front seat.

Dean was standing outside the passenger's door, with a bouquet of blue lilies in his hand. Castiel walked, in a trance-like state, to the Impala.

"Heya!" Dean grinned broadly, thrusting out the flowers to Castiel as Castiel approached him. "Flowers for you!"

"Hello, Dean." Castiel, almost uncertainly, took them in his hand, instinctively holding them to his chest, as he held his books in school. "What are these for?"

"Why, it's our two-week anniversary!" Dean announced, grinning like an idiot still. "Don't tell me you forgot, cherry-pie!"

"Well, alright." Castiel swallowed, his eyebrows rising. "I guess I did." He muttered, putting out his hand to Dean. "Happy two-week anniversary, Dean."

"Thank you." Dean did a dramatic little courtesy; Castiel stared, unsurprisingly. "I'm glad you finally, finally agreed that this is a relationship."

Castiel pursed his lips in a slight frown. "I'm just sick of arguing," he shrugged his shoulders, his eyes not leaving Dean's face still. "This is still you trying to make me fall in love with you, and failing." He teased.

"Whoa, the sarcasm in this guy," Dean ignored Castiel's smirking face, to gesture to Castiel with a finger, while talking to Sam and referring to Castiel. "Totally turning me on right now, by the way."

"Please keep that sorta information completely to yourself." Sam chuckled out, to which Castiel joined in.

"Just drive," Castiel nudged Dean with his hand.

"I get it, sweetheart," Dean blew him a kiss, and Castiel tried hard to roll his eyes, only managing to gape. "You don't want us to, you know," he whispered like a middle-school-girl. "In front of Sammy. I'm so sorry, I should've ditched him today. With it being our two-weeks-anniversary and all." He shrugged, feigning sadness.

"Me being here, has never really stopped you two from doing anything." Sam commented, from inside the car. Castiel tried hard to not blush; he had no idea if he succeeded. "So, go right ahead, guys; don't let me bother you."

"Your brother is an idiot." Castiel told Sam, and opened the door and sat down in the backseat, placing his bag beside him.

"Hey!" Dean yelled out. "I was gonna open the door for you!" He stuck out his lip mutinously. "That's why I was standing outside!"

"I thought it was to give me these flowers." Castiel blinked.

"Yeah, that, but that too!" Dean scowled. 

"Well, you can close the door for me..?" Castiel offered, after giving it a genuine moment of thought.

Dean fought to keep a smile off his face. "That's not nearly as romantic." He shrugged, a sarcastic smirk sneaking onto his face. "That's just chauffeur-like."

"Well, you know what, Dean," Castiel grinned. "You'll have to live with it, now that I've already opened the door for myself and got in. There's nothing left for me to do." Castiel cut Dean off right when he was about to speak. "And no, I won't get out again, only so that you can open the door for me."

"Alright!" Dean scowled, and marched over to the driver's seat on the other side of the vehicle. "Well, then, you know what? I'm gonna play 'Tears in Heaven' all the way, on repeat." Dean reciprocated, very maturely.

Castiel almost shuddered at the song. It was one of the songs which had him in tears before it even ended. There were several such songs, and 'Tears in Heaven' was one of them. Dean himself got pretty emotional, but not as much close to tears as he got by 'Cats in the Cradle' by Harry Chapin.

However, Castiel knew Dean would not act on his threat. He didn't.

He instead blasted 'Because the Night' by Patti Smith. Dean sang along, and Sam and Castiel merely bobbed his head to it. The song was not exactly made for Dean's throaty masculine voice, but to Castiel, it sounded amazing.

They reached school soon. Sam got out of the car, his bag on his shoulders, and turned to Castiel; he was about five inches taller, and quite nearly towered over him. "Happy two-weeks, man." Sam grinned cheekily.

Castiel rolled his eyes at this. "Don't encourage him."

"Look, I gotta tell you this," Sam continued, in a more serious tone. "Dean talked about nothing and no one else in the entire car ride to 'Paradise'." He raised his eyebrows pointedly.

"That's no r-" Castiel was about to say 'reason' when Dean cut him off, with a laugh in a falsetto.

"Oh, Sam!" He reached their side of the car, and landed a hand on Sam's back. Sam stared at Dean with a smile, knowing what would follow. Castiel didn't, and waited. "Look at you being the li'l brother who shows the boyfriend the embarrassing and naked childhood pictures of me!" He smiled pretentiously at Castiel, who raised an eyebrow at this act. "Now, go away, and let the elders be, you little-" He proceeded to literally shoo Sam away.

Castiel chuckled, seeing Dean drive Sam away. "You'll hurt him." He remarked, as Dean gave Sam one last push towards the school building. Sam almost jogged away, chuckling too.

"He's the size of a tree," Dean shrugged. "Human beings like me and you can't hurt him."

Castiel smiled, his eyes flickering down to the flowers in his hands. "Well, I'll be going to class now. T-thank you for the flowers, Dean."

"Wait!" Dean called. "I haven't yet given you my I-got-you-flowers speech, which I stayed up, all last night preparing!" He ducked his head, feigning shyness. "It's kinda, too romantic, to be conducted in front of Sam."

Castiel felt his heart leap. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Speak up, I mean." Castiel cleared his throat.

"Okay," Dean smiled, happily. "Gimme a moment to collect my thoughts."

"You're not about to give a lecture in class." Castiel pointed out.

"Yeah, this is far more important than that. What use is something that existed in the Tigris-Euphrates region, that was off the map in 332 BC?" Dean winked, and Castiel didn't even have to think twice before he knew Dean's sarcastic facts about the Mesopotamian civilisation - which they were currently studying - were correct. He almost beamed, happily. "Alright, I'm ready." He cleared his throat. "Don't interrupt me, okay?"

This childishness was somehow appealing to Castiel. He nodded his promise.

"Okay. So, Castiel Novak, I, Dean Winchester, am, on the finishing of two of the best weeks of my life with you, giving you these flowers as a show of my feelings towards you. And trust me, you have no idea how these- what these feelings are. I wanted to get you flowers, I always thought giving flowers was romantic, what about you?" He paused, and Castiel nodded an answer, looking dazed. "Cool, you like flowers too! Awesome. So, yeah, I wanted to get you flowers, and I wondered which flowers would be good. And I'm not gonna lie, Castiel, all I had to do was think of you in my head, and I knew blue lilies were the answer. I hoped that the lilies are as beautiful as your eyes, as blue as them, as perfect as them, but turns out that's not the case, because now, as you're holding the flowers," he gestured weakly to the flowers, which Castiel still held against his chest, "I can clearly see which is more beautiful. Because, you, uh," he cleared his throat. "You're so gorgeous, Castiel, that when I'm with you, I can't even see myself. I can only see you. And, sometimes," Dean was looking at his feet, and he stopped mid-sentence.

It was only then, that Castiel realised, that his voice was stuck in his throat, and he was looking at the ground too. How beautiful was that? And how much of it was true?

"You with me?" Dean looked up suddenly, his hand on Castiel's forearm, his expression completely changed from ten minutes ago.

Castiel nodded, and looked at Dean through his eyelashes. "Yes, Dean." He muttered, almost obediently, completely absorbed in Dean's monologue. He observed each of Dean's movements, his eyes keenly following every twitch and look.

"You know what," Dean cleared his throat. "I don't remember it properly," he spoke in an uncomfortable voice, as if he was lying. "I mean, it was kinda other stuff, you know. No chick-flick moments though," he almost looked alarmed by now. "So, yeah, I clearly overestimated my memory, stupid me." His eyes flickered all around the place. "I'll skip to the last line...?"

"Yes, Dean." Castiel repeated.

"Yeah, so, Castiel, y-you've become an integral part of my life. And, I'm gonna quote John Denver here," he cleared his throat. "I'm not gonna sing it, though, just that one line, and I'll just say it, because it suits you perfectly," his voice almost trailed away.

Castiel cut in, before Dean did something like throw up his hands in exasperation and walk off, never to be seen again, because it seemed like a possibility at the moment. "Which one?"

"I know, you'll know." Dean almost breathed out.

Castiel's mind worked up, as he thought of all of John Denver's songs. Then, sometime, in the middle of being ear-deep in music and lyrics, his eyes met Dean's, which were earnest, and vague at the same time. And, somewhere, between staring into each other's eyes, Dean stepped closer to him, and they were inches away.

Castiel and Dean stared at each other awkwardly, for a full moment. Neither of them knew what they had to say.

"Yeah, I forgot." Dean spoke up, suddenly, and Castiel was brought back into reality - from the abyss which was Dean's eyes - with a jolt. "So, I wanted to say this. You, you're amazing. And, I love being with you."

"What song is that?"

"It's called the introduction, jackass," Dean grinned, easily, all of the sudden, the tension dropping away. Castiel smiled slightly; Dean didn't curse at him usually, never really, it was always compliments and petnames and flirtations. But Castiel liked being endearingly treated in the same way as Dean treated his friends, Benny, Sam, and the gang. He merely urged Dean to continue. "So," he cleared his throat once more, and Castiel had noticed he did constantly when he was nervous. "You fill up my senses, like a night in a forest, like a mountain in springtime, like a walk in the rain, like a storm in the desert." He gulped, and blinked a couple of times.

"Like a sleepy blue ocean," Castiel completed, blinking himself, at recognising the song immediately. One of his personal favorites, of the artist.

Dean smiled; a genuine smile which didn't cover his entire face like his usual shiteating-grin did, but merely curled the corners of his lips; not straining his cheeks, and not disturbing the plane of his cheekbones, something Castiel enjoyed observing - he'd decided to call it that - and observed then too. 

The smile made his eyes light up, and almost gleam a brighter green than they were, and with every time Castiel blinked; it seemed as though his eyes, his face, was coming closer to Castiel.

He was leaning in.

They both were.

And it was almost a kiss. Almost. 

"Hey, brother!" Came a gruff voice from the side, and Dean pulled away like someone like screamed 'Fire!'. Castiel knew he'd spend several minutes thinking about this action later, as he himself withdrew, shifting out of Dean's grip on his forearm and focussing on breathing, as his eyes fell on the voice. Benny Lafitte. Who seemed to be made aware of the situation at that very moment. "Oh Lor- Holy shit, man, I had no idea. I-I'll go away." He turned away immediately, still blabbering as he began to walk away. "Dammit, I had no idea..." 

"Hey, it's okay, man!" Dean hurried, and Benny turned uncertainly. "It's not a big deal, what did you want? It's cool." He assured, his eyes not meeting Castiel.

Castiel was grateful for that. Because he had no idea what his eyes would convey.

Castiel's brain was in turmoil. In war with itself. A part of it was surprised; just taken aback at the turn of events. Another was confused. What had happened? Had they been leaning in? Would they have kissed had Benny not interrupted? What would that have been like? And how had Castiel reached so close to kissing Dean Winchester? Another part of his brain was elated. He'd deal with that part later. Because, the largest part of his brain thoughtlessly baffled. Was Dean Winchester about to kiss Castiel? How had he let it happen? What even had happened? Had it been Dean's words? Dean's smile? Something Castiel did? What even had happened!?

"Oh, okay." Dean's voice - as he spoke to Benny, his best friend - interrupted Castiel's brain-train. "I'll be there, Benny, just gimme a second, t-to-"

"Wrap things up." Benny completed, with a meaningful raise of his eyebrows. Castiel, feeling almost lost, looked at Benny, who was staring directly at him. "Alright, man. Finish what you were doing." He winked pointedly at Dean.

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?" Dean gave him a rough push with one hand, with a laugh, before walking back to Castiel, not quite so close as before - Castiel noted - but close enough to whisper a, "Can I see you later, Castiel, I need to go."

Castiel nodded. He knew Benny was on the school team too. "Yes, Dean." He replied quietly.

"That was awesome," Dean spoke, in a louder voice, now that Benny was far enough away. "I really meant it all. Happy two-weeks, right?" He grinned, but it was not the smile which had fascinated Castiel to the point of wanting to kiss him - wasn't that what had happened? - but his usual slightly-vague but wide grin. 

He didn't even mention the almost kiss. "Thank you, Dean."

"I'll see you soon." Dean patted his arm twice, with a weird look in his eyes. He leaned in closer - why would he do that, if not to give Castiel a heart attack? - and muttered, "Can't very well spend my anniversary without you, can I?"

Castiel ran a lip over his tongue. "You have to go, Dean." Dean had not even mentioned the 'almost' kiss. Why not?

"Yeah, I do." Dean began walking in the direction of the field, his front towards Castiel, still. "I'll see you as soon as possible, Castiel! Don't miss me too much!"

"Turn around, Dean." Castiel resisted a smile. "You'll fall."

"I won't." Dean laughed, and although he was a good five metres away, Castiel could hear it clearly. "I'm batman. I don't fall."

"Yeah, you fly." Castiel raised his eyebrows.

"Glide, baby!" Dean yelled, turning around, and proceeding to do a childish mimicry of what he meant.

Castiel thought of keeping to himself that even if Batman could fly, that is glide through the air, the impact from his landing, would likely wreck his body unless he fought crime with a better cape; not only because Dean was now out of reach - at the speed he glided, well - but also because he was Dean's favourite superhero. He'd come to know of that fact when coming upon Sam and Dean arguing about superheroes one day, in the Impala. And remembered it, finding it adorable. In a perfectly platonic way, of course.

Anyways, Castiel walked off to his locker - he couldn't even remember his first period anymore and would have to check his timetable, though he was sure he did remember in the car - and spent the whole of first period - Mathematics - thinking about Dean, again.

About his smile, about his speech, about his eyes.

And about the kiss which never happened, but could've.

Perhaps.

Maybe.

Almost.

And just like that, it was STRIKE ONE.

***

Interrupting Castiel's wandering thoughts - this time in the Physics period - Dean arrived.

He stood at the door, and Castiel's eyes studied him, almost familiarly, as he almost bounced about, asking for permission to enter in a cheeky voice. Castiel also noticed, in a moment of truth, that most of the eyes in the room were doing the same; staring at Dean. He wished not to be one of the crowd, but couldn't help it. At least not all of them had 'almost' kissed Dean Winchester. Wait, probably they had. And also, did he just think of it as if he was proud of it?

Yes, Castiel assured himself, you are going nuts.

Dean did get permission to enter from a glaring Mr. Campbell, and an order to 'sit wherever you find place, and open your books to Wave Motion, Page 324'. He promptly strolled through lines of hopeful girls - and guys - and landed next to Castiel on his desk. Castiel had been sitting alone - no surprises there - on a desk near the window, so that he could aptly look out at the trees as he didn't pay attention in class - it didn't even sound like 'Castiel' to Castiel himself. 

Castiel, moved his bag so that Dean got space to sit, and Dean took it as permission to sit closer - arms pushed against each other - to Castiel. He broadly grinned at Castiel, smelling like soap.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel found himself smiling. What was that about?

"Hola!" Dean grinned broader. "Here's a funfact. I'm gonna spend all day with you."

"What about practise?" 

"Practise? Screw it, cherry-pie," Dean beamed, giving no regard to the fact that Mr. Campbell was stressing how the diagram on page 326 could be asked regarding, in the exams. "It's our anniversary!"

Castiel sighed, shaking his head. "Sure."

"So, I get to spend all day basking in your glorious company," Dean winked. Castiel noticed how he didn't say it the other way around, that he, Castiel was going to spend all day in his, Dean's company. 

"That pleases me, greatly." Castiel spoke unthinkingly. "I mean," Castiel turned a slight red. "Great!"

"Prepare for a," Dean began in an enthusiastic falsetto. "What classes do you have?" He asked suddenly, in his normal voice.

"English after this, then Business Studies-" Castiel was cut off by Dean 

"Boring." Dean frowned. "Well, anyways, that hardly matters! Prepare for the best day of school!"

"With Physics, English, and B. S., I doubt it."

"With me by your side, you shouldn't."

***

And true enough, the rest of the day for Castiel had been exhilarating, to say the least.

In English - they sat on the last bench, a first for Castiel - and joked throughout the class. The teacher was strict, a Mrs. Burns, whom Dean admitted to not even know the name of. So they decided not to talk out loud. They passed notes - Dean's idea - but soon got bored, and resorted to talking in whispers. About anything and everything under the sun.

Business Studies was a proxy period, and the substitute was so disinterested in the class, that Dean and Castiel talked through the period; at everything from the merits of honey, to how Dean learned to cook, since he cooked for Sam, for the sake of doing something as his brother studied. They talked endlessly, "finding more topics than God would've deemed possible to laugh at," Dean swore, and at one point - Castiel recalled it as the moment when he and Dean were trying to dramatically enact a scene of 'Romeo and Juliet', in which Dean had insisted on being Juliet; God knows how they'd reached there from discussing checkers - they'd laughed so loudly, that Michael, sitting in the front, had turned, and frowned deeply at them, asking a, "What are you laughing at?"

"Your face," Dean had cheerfully replied. Michael had corrected him, with a sneer, that they'd been laughing before he asked the question, that is, without seeing his face. To which, Dean had colorfully explained that he'd spent so long dreaming of Michael's "dreamy" face, that now all he had to do was close his eyes, and Michael's face would be in front of him. Michael had literally "Humph" ed at this, and looked disapprovingly at Castiel before turning back to the front.

Castiel could not completely recall all of their topics of conversation, only that there had been plenty, and that he'd not had such a long - and interesting - conversation with anyone since, well, since his eighteen years of existing.

It was fun. A lot of fun.

***

It was in the last few minutes of Biology, which was the last period before Lunch, that Dean said the unthinkable.

"You know what, Castiel," Dean grinned. "I'm not gonna entertain any excuses today. You're sitting with me in Lunch."

Castiel pressed his lips together to avoid answering. What a valiant effort, indeed.

"Hey, come on," Dean almost pleaded. "Don't tell me you don't enjoy talking to me! I know you had fun today! Why not sit together in Lunch too? We haven't had lunch together, once, yet!"

Castiel smiled smally. "I'd like to, Dean," that was not a lie. "But you know how I spend time with you all the time, and Charlie, and Kevi-"

"I get that you're really awesome, and very much in demand," Dean literally batted his eyelashes, convincingly. "But I'm sure your friends would understand. It's our anniversary."

The bell rang.

The teacher walked out of the class, and the students too, at their own paces, begun to disperse.

Dean still looked at Castiel for a reply.

Castiel gulped. "Bu-"

"I'll talk to Charlie, alright?" Dean offered. "She's really cool," Dean had spent some time with Castiel's friends - firstly, out of politeness, later, out of genuine liking of Charlie, although he still tolerated Garth and hardly ever spoke to Kevin, who hardly ever spoke to him either - and Castiel had forgotten about it. His only excuse wasn't applicable anymore. Crap. "I'm sure she'll understand me wanting to spend more time with you."

Castiel swallowed. How unfair was it that even when Dean Winchester was being clingy - on purpose - he was so charming, and Castiel wanted to give in. He wanted to tell Dean that he didn't wanna sit at Dean's table, not because of his friends, but because of Dean's friends. He didn't even need to explain that. Dean's friends had been mean to him since primary school. They had literally bullied him specifically, not just been mean to him as everyone popular had always been; especially Crowley and Ketch. A shiver ran down Castiel's spine, wondering how Dean would react to being told so. He didn't want to know.

"Dean, don't insist." Castiel urged, being evasive, and gathering his books - which hadn't even been opened once, in class.

"I will!" Dean retorted, sounding like a little kid. "What's the big deal with sitting with me for Lunch? I don't bite," a mischievous gleam appeared in his eyes. "I mean, I do, but not in front of everyone," he winked. "And I promise not to, during this Lunch."

Castiel stood up. "Dean, the thing is that-"

"Yes?" Dean landed himself on the desk in front of where Castiel was standing, and crossed his legs, like a kid preparing to hear a fascinating end to a thriller. His smile, directed at Castiel, was connivingly innocent. He batted his eyelashes, giving him his best puppy-dog-eyes.

Castiel strained to look away. "See, I need to make notes. I-I haven't been paying attention in any class since morning, thanks to you," Castiel shot Dean an unconvincing frown. "I need to catch up."

"Right now?" Dean challenged.

"Yes." Castiel sat down again, determined not to give in, and opened his books to a random page - he was pretty sure that the Glossary wasn't being taught in class that day - and fiddled with a pen. "I'll see you later, Dean."

"No." Dean said, almost cheerily, and sat down on a chair on the opposite side of Castiel's table. "I'm not leaving this place without you."

"You don't need to do that, Dean." Castiel sighed. How stubborn was Dean Winchester? And how was Dean Winchester being stubborn so cute, to him?

"I do." Dean leaned towards Castiel - there was a table between them, then why did Castiel feel so invaded - biting his bottom lip, almost seductively. "And who knows, an empty classroom with you and me? We might just finish what we started." 

Dean didn't have to say anymore. Castiel knew exactly what he meant. Of course he did, it was in the back of his mind, all day. He gulped, looking at Dean cautiously. Dean still had the slightly predatory, highly amused look on his face, and an air of confidence. Castiel was aware he probably turned bright red, but he looked down at his book again, trying his best to focus on the glossary but all the words floating off the page as if written with flying ink.

"What?" Dean cooed; his face, a picture perfect. "You were perfectly willing to kiss me, this morning. And if Benny hadn't interrupted, who knows-"

"Dean." Castiel almost breathed out, scared like nothing else. All of a sudden, the dare had flown into his mind. All of this on a dare. Castiel realised he hadn't thought of that all day. A sudden iciness flooded him. He fought to keep a leash on himself. "Just..let me study. You can go, have Lunch, with your friends." Castiel knew he felt more hurt now than even the first time he came to know of the dare which seemed like a lifetime ago. He felt his throat block up.

As if struck by lightening, Dean stood up. Castiel's eyes slowly followed him, and his face was of one who was told of a secret. "Oh!" Dean exhaled noisily, looking like the time when he'd held Castiel too closely and Castiel had uncomfortably told him to move, and he'd 'Oh'ed in a similar manner. "I didn't even think of it." He cursed under his breath. "This is about my friends, isn't it?"

And the fact that you're pretending to like me for a dare, and I'm actually getting caught up in the act although I know the truth, Castiel thought to himself. But he nodded, giving up finally. 

He darkened. "Th-they didn't say anything to you, did they?" Dean asked, almost aggressively. Castiel was taken aback. "Or do something? Did Ketch- Crowley! It was Crowley, wasn't it? Did he-"

"No, Dean." Castiel lied, not knowing why he did so. "They didn't do anything to me." They hadn't exactly done anything to him, really, at least not in the proximity of months. "But Dean, your frie-friends, they're not exactly my friends, you know," his voice trailed off.

Dean blinked. "That won't be a problem." He murmured quietly, after a moment of silent conversation, where their eyes did the talking. 

"Do you really think so?" Castiel challenged.

"Yes. I do." Dean said, more firmly. "You're with me, Castiel. They will be nothing but nice to you."

"I don't need you to-" Castiel began immediately, then realised that was not what Dean meant, and that he held a hurt look on his face, the moment the words had left Castiel's lips. He pursed his lips, and framed his sentence differently. "I don't need them to be nice to me."

"I do." 

Castiel studied Dean's face - his eyes, which usually kept secrets so well, but which shone with raw emotions - for anything that might've suggested he was lying. There wasn't anything; at least nothing he could find. His anger lessened drastically, it was miraculous how that happened. "Dean." He murmured, unimportantly.

"You're my-" Dean stared straight into Castiel's eyes, and corrected himself. "You're with me. We're friends. We're more than that. We're gonna have Lunch together, at my table, and if my friends can't deal with it, too bad."

Castiel bit his lip. "Are you sure-"

"I wanna be seen with you?" Dean completed. "Yeah, Castiel, I do. I do wanna be seen with one of the best students of school, who's incomparable in Ancient History, and who's also handsome as living hell. I do."

Castiel was speechless; his mind blank.

"So, may I have the privilege of Lunching with you?" Dean offered Castiel a hand.

Castiel's mind worked up an answer; a single word, except for being brain-dead as he was sure he was. "Yes."

"You're so great, you know." Dean muttered, as Castiel, almost like an inanimate object, was pulled up to his feet by Dean. Castiel heard it, and felt as if something in him would melt, if it hadn't already. "You just need to stop thinking that the world thinks you aren't."

"Dean," Castiel's mind apparently could only conjure up one-syllable words.

"Yeah, cherry-pie?"

"You're great too." Still single syllables. He really was cracked up. And what was he saying, anyways?

Dean looked at his face carefully, not realising, that a few moment ago, Dean had broke Castiel. His walls; the last of them. They were gone. Castiel didn't know it himself yet, but they were. "Thanks, Castiel."

And they walked to the Lunch hall, Castiel's hands held against his chest with his left hand, as his right one was engaged. In holding Dean's back, as the latter had his fastened tightly around Castiel, his fingers often dancing against Castiel's skin. It was a fascinating feeling.

By the time they reached the Lunch hall - it took five minutes, no less - Castiel was feeling less euphoric - what he'd decided to call the feeling he sometimes got, around Dean. They walked straight to Dean's table, and Castiel's eyes, scanning the hall, failed to even see Charlie, Kevin or Garth. Dean kept walking firmly, not paying attention to the drop in Castiel's pace, and almost dragging him along.

When the reached, Castiel's usually-contained sky blue eyes took in the people at the table. Benny Lafitte, Anna Milton, Andrea Kormos, Gordon Walker, Arthur Ketch, Crowley MacLeod, Joanna Harvelle, Bela Talbot, Sam Winchester, and a few others. Castiel's eyes meet Sam's friendly brown ones, as he smiles, albeit a bit nervously. The other eyes merely study him, almost curiously; a few, with a hardly disguised sneer.

Dean pulls a chair for Castiel - why wouldn't he do that? - and sat down himself, disentangled his hand from Castiel's in some moment when Castiel was busy staring at the occupants of the chairs around the Popular Table from a close distance. Castiel sat down, his fears returning, and looked nervously, almost at Dean. To his right was Dean, to his left, Bela Talbot, who was too busy in conversation with Gordon.

"Where were you, man?" Benny asks, after a moment of awkward silence. As if on cue, people return to what they were doing; eating, talking, staring at others.

"Class." Dean replied cheerfully, as Benny pushed at him, a plate with a cheeseburger and fries.

"Is that what they call the girls' bathroom nowadays?" Benny replied, just as enthusiastically.

"I hope not." Dean laughed back, back in his element almost instantly. "That would be weird." He punched Benny's arm lightly. "Plus, that would be you, if I remember correctly. I'm not a 'stalls' guy, you know!" And both of them laughed good naturedly.

Castiel observed his exchange silently.

Dean apparently noticed this, and turned to Castiel instantly. He pushed his own plate towards Castiel. "Whenever I'm late, these guys get me food." He explained. "What do you want for Lunch?" 

Castiel thought of shaking his head at first, but then realised he actually was hungry. "Same as you, burger and fries. But I'll get mine myse-"

"Wait a second," he stood up. "I'll get it." 

Castiel was struck with the thought that he was alone at the Popular Table - after Dean walked out of sight in the crowd - and paled. He looked down at the table, not knowing where to look.

"Hey," said a sudden female voice. "You look like a lost kitten! Don't worry, we don't eat people, although you look pretty tasty," Castiel recognised the speaker as Joanna Harvelle. She spoke, not unkindly, but ended with a laugh, throwing back her head, and Castiel smiled back.

"I'm Castiel Novak." Castiel offered, good naturedly, finding Joanna less threatening than most at the table.

Joanna grinned broadly, dimples showing up. She used her hand to push away a strand of blonde hair from her face, and took a messy bite of her sandwich. "I know all about you, dude." Then she smiled again, swallowing her mouthful. "Jo." She spoke, for herself.

"Why, why!" Benny cut in, in a falsetto, with a grin. "Joanna Beth Harvelle, is that a way to introduce yourself to a guy? And talking with food in your mouth!? What did I say about that!?"

Castiel smiled, as Jo swatted at Benny's face, as he ducked. "Don't get all 'mom' on me, idiot!" She protested. "And, I don't need to talk properly to this guy! Dean beat me to that." She cocked her head towards Castiel with a huge grin.

Benny turned to Castiel, ignoring Jo's deadly glares. "Hey there." He grinned, and Castiel, smiled back, thoughtlessly. "We never did get introduced properly. And as Dean's friends, we should! I'm Benny Lafitte." He gestured at Jo with a milkshake in his hand. "And she doesn't know how to talk."

"It's fine." Castiel pursed his lips. "I'm Castiel."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. He has a big mouth." Benny motioned to Dean's chair, which was between his and Castiel's.

"And one, that apparently likes yours greatly, so the rumors go." Came an accented voice, not too different from Balthazar's. Castiel turned to face Bela Talbot, a beautiful cheerleader, with an olive skin and a vivacious smile. "I'm Bela Talbot." She pronounced gently. "And you must be Dean's newest playmate."

Castiel frowned slightly, debating whether to correct her or let it go, as a joke. "I'm Castiel."

"That's quite a name." The speaker was Andrea Kormos, a dark-skinned girl with striking features, who sat opposite Benny. Benny's girlfriend, he recognised. "I'm Andrea."

Castiel nodded. "Ca-"

"Castiel." A voice cut in, and Castiel recognised the redhead with bright eyes but a drawn thin-lipped smile as Anna, sitting to the right of Jo, who was taken up with her food at the moment. "You needn't repeat it to every one of us. We've got ears, you know."

"Hey, Anna, stop being mean," Benny immediately retorted. He turned a slightly-taken-aback Castiel towards himself. "Listen, man, Anna is not always that bad. But," he lowered his voice. "She's always hostile to Dean's gi- boyfriends. Dean kinda slept with her last year after a party, but it meant more to her than to him."

Castiel scrunched his nose into a deeper frown. "He did..what?"

"He was drunk." Benny shrugged, as if that explained everything.

Castiel turned back to Anna, who was still regarding him skeptically as if she disapproved of him, even while conversing with a black-haired guy to her right, whom Castiel didn't recognise.

It was at this moment, that Dean returned, carrying a tray. He landed it in front of Castiel. "Food, for the gentleman!" He announced, lifting an invisible cover from over his plate in a dramatic flourish. He flashed Castiel an easy, casual grin, as he sat down next to him, their legs brushing against each other. Castiel felt something go through him, but sat tight, smiling at Jo who was in front of them. And begun eating in silence.

"Anyways," Bela broke the silence, but standing up and picking up her tray, like it were her purse and she were in a five-star restaurant. "I've got to go-"

"Yeah." Dean snorted. "Go makeout with nerd Nick so that he does your homework for you. We all know you, Bela."

"He didn't." Bela gestured at Castiel, with a smile surprisingly good-natured for having been called a slut indirectly. "And you needn't sound so jealous, Dean. I gave you your chance to tap it, you backed out of it. So, I'll see you guys later." 

Castiel turned back to Dean, and was about to say something about the burger, when he felt fingers ghosting over the back of his neck, almost provocatively. He looked up surprisingly, to see no one, and notice Bela walk away, swinging her hips. Confused at this inappropriate gesture, he turned back to his plate.

"That's normal." Dean whispered, leaning towards him. Castiel turned to him, surprised. He smiled a little. "You're hot stuff, and she's a whore. It's pretty anticipated behavior from her."

"She's your friend." Castiel reminded Dean, with a disapproving look.

"Not really." Dean grinned cheekily. "She's just a really handy person to keep close."

Castiel frowned deeper, and returned to his burger.

"Oh, come on." Dean cooed, leaning in closer. "Don't get mad at me for-"

"Why do you hangout with her if you don't like her?" Castiel muttered back.

"Look at you, trying to change my lifestyle on the very first day." Dean winked. "A man after my own heart!" He stage-whispered, dramatically. Then, frowned. "Did I use that correctly?"  
Castiel shook his head.

Dean appeared to be giving it thought, but then shrugged it off. "Whatever. I just mean, I hangout with a lot of people whom I don't like. It doesn't matter."

"Just because they're popular?" Castiel bit his lip.

"No," Dean begun to reason.

"Oh," Castiel allowed himself to smile at Dean a little bit. "I get it. They all must be 'handy persons to keep close'." Dean grinned at him broadly.

"You already know me so wel-"

"Would you look at these two!?" Jo almost yelled out, snapping Dean and Castiel out of their little conversation. "We've been discussing them since the last five minutes, but they can't seem to have enough of each other in the 36 hours everyday they spend together!" She grinned cheekily.

"What were you discussing about us?" Dean asked, with a bright grin, ignoring the latter part.

"Oh, nothing really," Benny grinned. "Just the sex."

"Aw, without me, you guys!" Dean laughed out loud, as Castiel reddened embarrassedly. "C'mon, I'll solve your doubts. And give you the juicy details."

"Dea-" Castiel begun, but was cut off by Sam, who landed next to Castiel, on the seat which Bela had left, from the far end of the table. 

"Let them gross perverts be," Sam grinned, as if it were very usual to discuss Dean's sex life - which in this case, was not applicable, they had not had sex; all they'd had was an 'almost' kiss - on the lunch table. "You remember the L.O.T.R. head cannon I was telling you about..."

And the next few minutes passed pleasantly enough; talking to Sam, with various inputs from Dean's friends, and and several knee-brushes from Dean, as he had his own conversation on the other side of the table. For a few moments, it was not as if he was sitting amongst the people on the highest rung of the social ladder; but among friends.

But just when Castiel begun to feel as if it all might not be as scary and bad as Castiel suspected, everything he had feared happened.

Sam stood up, with a glance at the clock, and excused himself; proceeding to walk away amidst hoots. Dean explained that Sam was leaving early, and did so everyday almost, to attend the practise of the Dance Club. To watch Jess, Dean added with a smirk. Castiel remembered Gabriel played the Casio for their practise - he'd told Castiel so sometime - and spent a moment wondering what Gabriel would say to him being at Dean's table. It would not please him, he was sure.

And that's when, Crowley came and sat down next to Castiel.

"Hi, Novak!" Crowley sneered.

Castiel turned, and tried to swallow his instant nervousness. "Hello, Crowley." He murmured, not good at all with confrontations of any kind.

"I see you here today," Crowley continued in a low voice. "And I wonder if it's because being with Winchester gave you the feeling that you deserve to be here." He almost growled out. "Just reminding you, Novak, you'll be out of here in no time, and Dean will have moved on to someone new. And you'll be left in the sea of nobodies where weird-ass nerds like you belong."

Castiel listened, and didn't know how to react. It was all true, what use speaking against it? But he knew one thing, he didn't want Dean coming to know about this. "Okay, alright." He replied, weakly, wondering why he never knew the correct comebacks, like some people - Dean Winchester - did.

"I'm actually surprised Dean even stuck with you for this long." Crowley shrugged. "I mean, with you being all...Novak-y and weird, how does he even put up with you?" Crowley scoffed out.

"That's none of your business," he snapped back, in a sudden burst of anger. Fortunately, Dean didn't hear him over the noise from the other side. He lowered his voice. "Crowley, look, don't do this right now-"

"Why? You don't want to look like a pathetic pussy in front of your boyfriend?" Crowley smirked, cruelly. "Well, you can't help if you are one, Novak."

Castiel decided the best way was to ignore him, and he turned to his food. 

"You chicken out, already?" Crowley mocked. "I mean, if it was after a few blows, it was still acceptable from any normal guy, you know..."

And Castiel took it. Without reacting, knowing Crowley wouldn't be able to implement any of what he said then and there. Too many people. People like him, cornered people like him in corners, and alone.

And thus followed about the ten worst minutes of Castiel's life. 

Crowley murmuring shit in Castiel's ear, about him being weird, not good enough for Dean, and just another playmate, and Ketch - who, not to be left behind - had taken the seat opposite Dean's, vacated by Jo, and was engaging Dean in conversation about football stuff, Castiel was clueless of. Then he shifted conversation to Dean's conquests, as if to particularly barb Castiel - which it did, but he would never admit - and finally to Junior Prom, and to whom he'd take with: Lisa, Anna, or Jo. Castiel felt inexpressibly weirdly about these, almost as bad he'd feel about Crowley talking crap about his family - He didn't know jack about Castiel's family or background.

And then, suddenly, he felt a hard hit at his shin. His eyes widened, as a gasp left his mouth, and he turned to find Crowley smiling oilily. He had no idea what the black-haired british-accented guy who walked around wearing black like he was in mourning had any problems with Castiel; just that he did, and he went out of his way to make Castiel's life hell.

Just when he had begun to feel as if being on the popular table might not be so bad after all.

Castiel worried on how Dean would react if he somehow came to know of what his 'friends' were treating Castiel like - and not about himself, he was used to it - when he came to find out exactly the answer to that.

Ketch's kick missed it's mark, and hit Dean instead.

And then, as Castiel watched, all hell broke loose.

Dean glared at Ketch, somehow knowing exactly who the kick had been directed from. "What's your problem?"

"I didn't mean to-" Ketch begun falteringly, his eyes betraying, as the flickered to Castiel. Dean somehow deciphered exactly what he meant by that, and his eyes darkened more. 

"Castiel?" He hissed at Ketch. "You were kicking Castiel? Because that sure as holy hell wasn't a footsie!" He almost growled, his voice dangerously low-pitched, and Castiel slammed his hand to his forehead. He'd really wanted for this to not be out. He didn't want more drama. 

He pursed his lips together, as Ketch hesitated. "Look, Dean..."

"God help you," Dean cursed under his breath, his rage building up suddenly, and - to Castiel - surprisingly. He'd not expected such a violent reaction. "If you were aiming it at Castiel, you jackass!" 

Ketch gave up his defensive stance, and crossed his arms across his chest. "Well, what if I was!?" He yelled back. 

Dean stood up, his chair falling back; it's back hitting the ground. "You-"

"So what, Dean?" Crowley rejoined, cutting Dean off at a moment when he should not have been cut off. "So what? It's Castiel Novak! The weird-ass nerd! How does it even matter if we kick him, or hit him, or beat the shit out of him!?"

Dean positively glowered now. "You, son of a bitch!" his voice rose with every syllable. "It matters, because it does! How fucking dare you?"

Crowley appeared a bit taken aback. But he recovered quickly. "Dean, are you actually gonna yell at me for him!?"

"Yes!" Dean shouted back. "To you, and to all the other bastards who do any sort of crap to hi-" he stopped mid-sentence, and turned to Castiel, who was silently observing the bricks tumble off a haphazardly made wall which was Dean's friendship with these guys, and not thinking about it - a skill he'd mastered by staying with Dean. "Did they do anything, Castiel!?"

Castiel stared at Dean, almost helplessly. He didn't wanna complain in front of everyone that Crowley had been harassing him. He didn't wanna lie either.

But Crowley butt in. "Yeah, Castiel!" Crowley sneered. "Whine to Dean like losers do, and he'll solve all your-"

"Crowley, I fucking swear to-" Dean pursed his lips, to not curse further. "Apologise to Castiel, you son of a bitch." He spoke, in a much more quiet tone a moment later.

Crowley almost laughed out. "Are you kidding me?" He tossed his head. "What is this, primary school! I'm not apologising to anyone!"

"Well, then, I'm gonna kick your fucking a-" Dean threatened, pausing mid-sentence to carry out his treat, and stepping out of where he was standing; walking towards Crowley daringly, and pulling him up to his height, by his collar. His eyes were so dark, that they could've been black. Castiel was witnessing proper Dean-Winchester-fury for the first time, and for him? Dean would get that furious for his sake? Why?

"You'd fight me!?" Crowley choked out. "For him?" Castiel agreed. For him? "What's he even doing here, Dean!? On our table!?"

"Eating, like a normal guy, amongst assholes like you." Dean snapped, still holding Crowley by his collar.

By this time, Benny, Gordon, and Ketch were on their feet too. So were a few girls, and a lot of people in the entire Lunch hall. Benny was close to Dean, as if to be a restraining influence if at all, Dean flew at Crowley. Castiel, thoughtlessly, sat, and saw things happen like a fool.

"Assholes like me?" Crowley repeated, with a sneer. "And what's he? An angel?"

Dean made a sound that deeply resembled a, "Fuck you." 

"I'll see to that for myself," Crowley called out, his stupid smirk still in place. "Why don't you worry about yourself and that weird-ass fa-"

In a millisecond, Crowley was on the ground. Dean's fist had made contact with his face - nose, Castiel assumed - and bleeding from his nose and the corner of his lip, he scrambled back to his feet, his eyes just as angry as Dean, if not as dangerous. Dean looked fearful, his chest heaving with intense breathing, his gaze fixed on Crowley.

Crowley, not stood up, came towards Dean in anger, and Dean held him off, without much efforts, with a hand on his collar once again, and the other pinning his right arm to his back. His jaw was clenched, and eyes almost challenging. He raised his hand to aim a punch again, but a strong pair of hands held him back, while Ketch got engaged in disentangling Crowley from Dean.

"Sit down, Crowley!" Benny ushered, stepping in, just when he guessed his best friend would lose control completely. "Just, sit your fucking ass down, alright?"

Crowley muttered a curse of his own, before sitting down. Benny was back to Dean's side in a second.

"Dean listen, brother, sit down, alright? You don't wanna fight Crowley," he spoke gently, knowing exactly what to say. "He's Crowley. He's a dick! You know that! So don't fight in the school campus!" Benny's words seemed to have a negligible effect on Dean, but an effect nonetheless. "You'll get suspended, man! I'll personally help you kick his ass outside. I will, he asked for it." He promised. That seemed to have some effect, and Dean's breathing became more levelled, his chest heaving lesser.

"Sit down," Benny repeated, and Dean, picked up his chair pushed away in disregard with a hand, and sat down one of his hands aggressively grasping Castiel's. Not the time for this, Castiel thought to himself, as he felt a wave of electricity go past him. "Good. Now, calm down."

"Look, Crowley," Dean spoke up, after a long minute of awkward silence. "You say jackshit about Castiel, and I'm gonna rip you apart." He declared. Then paused for another moment. "He's with me! You'll be good to him, or I will personally hunt you down, and-"

"Yeah, one time's enough for me to understand." Crowley scoffed, surprisingly calmed-down for having been on the floor a few minutes ago. "Alright, Dean, I won't do a thing to your boyfriend. I'll ignore him altogether," he offered, and added in a low voice. "Like he is supposed to be."

Dean ignored it. He faced Ketch headfirst now. "You too-"

"Yeah, alright." Ketch backed down instantly. No one wanted Dean Winchester as their enemy, not even Ketch and Crowley. He was dangerous. Castiel observed this, in wonder.

Dean looked around the table. "I've got a good mind to leave this table with Castiel and sit on a different one altogether." He frowned bitterly. "But that would mean you jackasses winning. So Castiel, my boyfriend, will sit right here with me, and if anyone has a problem with it, you will come to me first. Or walk away."

"Dean," Castiel spoke, after almost an eternity, when all were in silence. "That was," he searched his brain for a word. "Unnecessary." Wrong word, he knew instantly.

"Shut up, idiot." Dean's frown wore away a bit. "It was of utmost importance that I drill that into these Stultus's minds." 

Castiel smiled a bit at the inside joke. "You were prepared for a fight. That's bad. Crowley is your-"

"Don't say 'friend', Castiel," Dean smiled, bitterly. "Your definition of 'friend' is not the same as mine."

"Your definition of 'friend' is wrong." Castiel smiled gently, the commotion from a few minutes died away in almost a terrific anticlimax.

"Gee, how open-minded of you," Dean shrugged sarcastically. By this time, Castiel had noticed, at a single glance, that very few people remained on their table. Crowley and Ketch had disappeared; Benny was engaged in conversation with Andrea, and only a few more people were scattered around.

"It's the truth, Dean." Castiel repeated. "And, I didn't need you to defend me."

"Yeah, you would've done perfectly well in listening to all of his crap and not saying anything in return," Dean countered. "Why do that, Castiel? You don't look intimidated by him!" Castiel shook his head. "Then, why not, 'fight for your honour'?" Dean drew air-quotes.

"Fight for my honour?" Castiel repeated.

"In a medieval-times-speak, yes!"

"Well, I guess I'm so used to it by now, that I don't even care."

"That's all wrong." Dean waved his hand in the air, to dismiss his point. "You ought to. And because you didn't, I did. Not because you couldn't, but because they were my friends."

"Not-"

"Yes." Dean corrected himself. "Not friends."

A moment passed.

"What's wrong?"

Castiel smiled, but his eyes were forlorn. "I just, kind of sat there like a spineless guy, you know." He admitted, wondering how he was speaking so openly. How unlike him. "With you 'defending my honour' and everything, and me sitting there gaping at everything."

"You could've joined in." Dean grinned cheerily. "I could've kicked his ass alone, but together," the look on Dean's face was almost excited. "Together, we could've beat his ass six ways to Sunday."

"Yeah." Castiel nodded, picturing it for a moment, but being pulled out of his reverie before he could form an image in his head.

"By the way," Dean suddenly beamed, and Castiel was almost surprised at how instantly his anger wore off. He liked to think he'd had something to do with it. "Castie-" he paused in the middle of his name. "Castiel," he repeated, more slowly.

"Are you revising?" Castiel smiled.

"No." Dean grinned again. "Wait a second." He pursed his lips, then pronounced out, "Cherry-pie" slowly. Then repeated it. Then grinned directly at Castiel again. "You know what?"

"I have no idea." Castiel replied.

Dean smiled. "Your name is too long! I mea-"

Castiel cut Dean off. "Too long?" He repeated. "It's only three syllables."

Dean nodded, enthusiastically. "Exactly! It's three syllables!" He sighed dramatically. "And, would you look at this? 'Cherry-pie' is three syllables too!"

Castiel furrowed his brow. "So?" He had no idea where Dean was getting to. "It's not Jedidiah or Alessandro or Nathaniel or-"

"Yeah, well, it's still longer than Dean!" Dean stressed out his own name.

Castiel shook his head, in disbelief, at the aimless conversation they were having. "Are you sure you're not drunk?" He asked, with a look.

"Me?" Dean chuckled, in a false drunk drawl. "Oh, how did you know, pard'ner?" Any doubts Castiel might've had on the subject were removed. Dean was not drunk. He was just being Dean.

"Alright then," Castiel heaved out a breath. "My name is longer than yours. What do you plan to do about it?"

"Why," Dean began as if it was very obvious. "Call you by a new name, uh, of course!"

"Because three syllables is too much effort." Castiel tsked sarcastically.

"Yes!" Dean beamed. "Cass-tea-ell! Too much effort, indeed!"

Castiel frowned. "Well, what will you call me then?"

Dean gave it some thought. "I'll call yo-"

The bell rang; a shill continuous ring declaring the start of the sixth period, which drowned out his words.

"You'll call me..?"

"Cas!" Dean said, happily. As soon as the words rolled off his tongue, Castiel's eyes widened. 'Cas', it was such a normal name. It could've been short for 'Cassidy' or 'Casper' some other normal name, instead of the serious 'Castiel'. It sounded like the name of a guy who took things as they came at him, dealed with everything with a swagger in place, and was a cool, carefree, guy who wasn't afraid of feelings. Everything Castiel wasn't. But most of the things, he wished to be. So he liked the name. A lot.

"I like it." He smiled, unintentionally largely.

"Whoa there," Dean backed off, with mock terror in his eyes. "Keep it small. Too big a smile is too much of a cuteness quotient for common folks as me." He joked. "You look like a giant adorable kitten who just got a new name and is purring to show it's approval to it."

Castiel scowled. "There is absolutely no similarity between me and a kitte-"

"You gotta admit there is." Dean repeated. "I mean, it's the same kind of similarity which Sammy shares with a dog. Small, only occasionally overpowering, but there."

Castiel scowled deeper. "Why must you compare your brother and me-"

"-my boyfriend-"

"-to animals of any kind?" Castiel completed.

Dean shrugged. "It's obvious."

"And how would you like to be compared with one?"

"Well, compare away!" Dean offered. "Although, I only bear resemblance to certain species of ferocious wild cats, both in appearance, and as confirmed by several girls in bed-" he began, confidently.

"You look like a," Castiel cut him off, but paused mid-sentence, not really having thought it through. In his mind, Dean looked like nothing but Dean Winchester himself, quite possibly the best looking man he'd ever met. He'd not even thought of comparing him with an animal. He racked his brains.

"See, you got nothing!" Dean beamed. "So, you've got to accept, that although you're devastatingly handsome-"

"-I'm not-"

"You are, in addition to it, also similar-looking to a kitten!" Dean looked like he was having a lot of fun.

Castiel crossed his arms in front of his chest, once again, thinking how pointless the conversation was, yet how he was enjoying Dean's silly company, and laughing to his small ridiculous jokes. "Well, at least, I don't look like a lumberjack!" He countered.

Dean didn't appear too offended, only surprised. "Really? I do?"

Castiel nodded. It was true. He did look like a lumberjack, especially when he wore all that plaid and flannel, like he did at the moment. A really, really good-looking lumberjack, but one nonetheless.

"Well, you still find me irresistible, so I guess I'll live with it." Dean countered, by slinging an arm around Castiel's shoulder. "You're the only one who matters anyways, and I already landed you, so, I don't care." 

Castiel flinched for a millisecond at this close contact, but then realised Dean was doing it casually, so he relaxed a bit. His eyes flickered down at his watch, and he remembered the bell. "Dean! Class!" He stood up, Dean's arm falling off.

"Do we need to go?" Dean stuck out his lip. "I'm having fun!"

Castiel sighed. He wanted to shake his head. But he nodded. "I think I have Geography."

"I'll go with you." Dean grinned.

Castiel grinned back. "Yeah, and you'll not let me study, by sitting next to me, and talking the whole period."

"Yeah," Dean shrugged. "I will do that. But even if I wasn't there, you'd not study because you'd be thinking of sitting next to me, and talking to me, the whole period."

"That's not true." It kind of was.

"When I entered Campbell's class, I clearly saw you looking out of the window, deep in thought." Dean challenged, as they stood up, and begun heading towards the classroom.

"There were bees outside." Castiel defended. "I was watching the bees. It was an accident that you came in at that very moment."

"Accidents don't happen accidentally, sweetheart." Dean winked.

Castiel huffed. "Well, that doesn't prove anything, Dean. I could've been thinking about anything else!"

"Yeah, but you weren't!" Dean almost chuckled; it'd been a while since Castiel had seen him chuckle like that, and he was reminded once again, of the beauty of it. "What else could you've been thinking of, anyways?"

Castiel thought about it. And when, nothing else came to mind, he quipped with what popped into the front of his brain. "Flavian Dynasty of Ancient Rome?" Dean looked at him, literally puzzled. "Discovery of Coffee?" He added, the second thing which popped into his mind. "We learnt it from goats, you know." He added, unnecessarily.

Dean continued to stare at Castiel, with an incomprehensible look in his green eyes, for a few moments, before his eyes crinkled into an overwhelmed smile, almost amazed. "Don't ever change."

Castiel stared back at Dean. Confused. What had he said about changing? He'd been spouting weird facts to change the subject? Where had that come from? "Dean?" He repeated.

"Yeah, Cas?" Dean smiled, looking more of himself now.

Castiel's heart leaped at the name. He discovered he liked it much more than 'cherry-pie' or even his own name. 

He didn't say anything for a while, keeping to himself in his reverie, his eyes on the passageways they were walking through, and it was a while before Dean exhaled and it sounded like a little huff of laughter. "You really like the name, Cas."

"I do." They were about to reach the classroom.

"And I, you."

Castiel stared at Dean's face, searching for god knows what, but a quick typical Dean-Winchester smile had fit in place, as he politely asked the female teacher if they could be allowed inside. She nodded, even smiled, and Dean and Castiel took a seat in the middle row.

And they didn't talk about this other almost, again.

And all of this together forms what is prevalent as, STRIKE TWO.

***

The last period - second Geography; it'd been a block period - finished, and Dean and Castiel begun walking towards Castiel's locker. Castiel was well aware that Dean's locker was much farther away, but he liked walking with Dean, and Dean liked walking him to his locker, "in a not pet-like sense" Dean had clarified, with a grin, once before.

"Hey," Castiel muttered unnecessarily. "Before, you were saying something", he reminded Dean, as they reached his locker, and he begun to pack the necessary books into his bag. Dean had, on his first visit to Castiel's locker, sought to be allowed to peek inside, but had been disappointed, because it was nothing personal. Just books, stationary, timetables and a few band posters. He was not that kind of person.

"When?" Dean asked.

"You know," Castiel smiled. "Before, when you sudden begun to repeat my name again and again, and then we had that discussion on names, and then that one on animals," he smiled wider, even recalling it. "You were gonna say something."

"Was I?" Dean shrugged dismissively, and dutifully peeked into Castiel's impersonal locker.

"I haven't taped pictures of my first celebrity crush inside yet." Castiel told him sarcastically, pushing him out of his locker, so that he didn't close it with his head inside. "Although, I'm working on it."

"You never asked to see mine, you know," Dean raised his eyebrows. "It's got pictures of Gunner Lawless, and a few of Christian Bale with the Batman mask.." His voice trailed off.

Castiel remembered how there'd been a rumor - last year, he seemed to remember - that Dean kept a bucket list, of girls he wanted to sleep with, and that with Tessa, he'd apparently checked off all of the hottest girls in school. Castiel wanted to forget about it, as soon as he remembered it, and hated himself for remembering it in the first place. 

"Hi, you alright?" Dean touched Castiel's arm, bringing him back to reality.

"Yeah." Castiel managed a small smile. "What did you say?"

"I said," Dean started excitedly. "That I finally remembered what I was gonna say!"

Castiel nodded his head. "Yes?"

"That I wanted to take you out!" Dean beamed, pleased at himself. Castiel waited for him to elaborate. "You know, on a date, to dinner or maybe just snacks, or perhaps a movie, where there are no school bells and shit. Whatsay?"

Castiel pursed his lips together. He didn't know what to say.

"C'mon, it'd be fun!" Dean promised. "I'll be my most entertaining self, and you'll be the amazing you, and we'll get a kick, and a tasty meal, out of it!" He assured.

Castiel considered it. He did want to say yes, he discovered before long, of his thinking started, but he was still confused. About what, he had no idea. "Well..."

"We can go anywhere you want! It'll be awesome!" Dean repeated. "I'll pick you up, and drop you home by eleven! I'll even," Dean assumed a dramatic solemn attitude. "I'll even do the awkward conversation with your dad." Castiel still hesitated. "Gabriel too." Dean added, which made Castiel realise how into it, Dean was. He felt happier than required.

Castiel was about to say 'I'll think about it', when Dean started off persuading again.

"Aw, Cas, come on!" Dean wiggled his eyebrows. "It's our two-weeks anniversary, and what kind of a boyfriend would I be if I didn't take you out on a anniversary?"

"That's another thing we need to talk about." Castiel smiled, enjoying teasing Dean. "Exactly why are you going about telling people you're my boyfriend?"

Dean put on his best innocent look. "Why? Did you not wanna jinx it till we are sure?"

"We're not getting married." Castiel scoffed. "Just, you know, a relationship, it's a mutual thing. You can't just wake up one day, and decide you're my boyfriend."

"Oh." Dean scratched his chin dramatically. "Oh."

Castiel closed his locker door, and slung his lighter bag on one shoulder. 

"Well," Dean cut off the silence. "I'd ask you now, but I can't do it without going on a da-"

"You'll ask me what?" Castiel eyed Dean warily.

"Oh, you know, pop the question," Dean gestured with his hands in the air. "Propose to you!"

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I wanna be your boyfriend?" Dean shrugged. Castiel blinked, twice, and Dean continued. "Yeah, but I can't do it without going on a date with you. 'You know, gotta take a guy out to dinner before you put a ring on him'." Dean drew air-quotes. He grinned. "In this case, the hypothetical ring being a label."

Castiel started to say something, then closed his mouth.

Dean Winchester, had once again, rendered him speechless. I mean, what do you say to that? Nothing, but-

"Okay." 

"Okay?" Dean confirmed, his eyes lighting up.

"Okay." Castiel repeated.

"Okay!" Dean rejoiced. "I knew you'd give in to your heart's deepest, darkest, desire in the end, Castiel you-ought-to-have-a-middle-name-because-middle-names-are-cool Novak."

Castiel sighed. "You're not my heart's deepest, darkest desire, Dea-"

"It's alright, Cas," Dean touched Castiel forearm, with a look of mock sympathy. "You needn't lie."

"But I'm not-"

"No, it's alright, Cas," Dean repeated, in a much more solemn tone, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "It's only me. You needn't lie."

Castiel rolled his eyes, and begun walking to the school gates. "You should let me complete my sentences. I might have important things to say." He smiled.

"Well," Dean drawled. "You'll have all the time in the world to talk during our date!"

"Why?" Castiel frowned sarcastically. "Does me going on a date with you, stop time?"

"No, but love does." Dean clasped a hand to his heard dramatically, his eyelashes fluttering. Castiel watched, fascinated.

"Why don't you consider auditioning for school plays, Dean?" Castiel commented, as they reached the Impala, and Dean unlocked the car.

"Because I like to give others a chance," he winked cockily, as the both of them took their respective seats. "I'm a selfless gentleman who wants to see the less-talented flourish, too."

"Yeah, a gentleman with an incredibly giant head."

"And stunning looks and impeccable manners." Dean offered.

"And moderately alright music tastes." Castiel rejoined, with a chuckle, as he dutifully popped in a Metallica into the player. One of Dean's favourites.

"And a really good car." Dean added, running his hands on the steerish wheel affectionately, as the engine roared to life, and purred out of the school gates.

"And possibly a very mad little brother, whom he forgot to wait for." Castiel was suddenly reminded of Sam's existence, as he glanced at the backseat - where he'd be, were Sam present.

Dean shrugged, and gave Castiel a look that read 'he's busy' and Castiel assumed it had something to do with Jessica Moore. But hadn't he seen her near the parking lot, with her group? He must've been mistaken.

"Hey, I liked that game," Dean grinned, and nudged Castiel. "Whose turn was it?"

"It wasn't a game." Castiel corrected. "Yours," he added, fighting to suppress a smile.

"Okay." Dean thought about it. "And," he continued from where they'd left off. "A dinner date with the sexiest Junior of the era." 'Era', not even 'area'. Castiel could've scoffed.

Castiel, instead, expressed his sentiments by sighing.

"I mean it!" Dean looked directly at him, and for a moment, Castiel was rapt in those eyes, which had not been given the deserved attention - by Castiel - since morning; although the only one to blame was the possessor of those beautiful green eyes, who had had Castiel enraptured by his words all day long. Castiel settled into a familiar sight, losing track of whatever Dean was saying, as he got absorbed in the beautiful world which was in those green irises. Instead of seeing his own reflection, he saw Dean in them, and everything Dean was, reflected back at him through those emeralds.

"And," Castiel begun speaking, almost as if in a trance, not realising he cut Dean off in the middle of a childish rant, insisting that Castiel was perfect. "A gentleman with really, really beautiful  eyes."

***

"I'm an idiot, I'm an idiot, I'm an idiot," Castiel repeated to himself, as he hurried up the steps to Paradise. Once in front of the door, he turned to see that Dean still waited there; possibly waiting for Castiel to enter before he left. The perfect gentleman. Castiel cursed under his breath. "I'm an idiot."

He used his key to open the door and entered, shutting it behind him. Silence greeted him. He was grateful; because it meant he'd get time to properly think - overthink, that is - about how exactly he was an idiot. 

But then he remembered.

His father was supposed to be home. So was Gabriel, because it was Tuesday, and the maid at Gabriel's apartment took Tuesdays off, which was why he stayed over at Paradise. Then, why could he find neither?

"Dad?" Castiel called, as he put down his bag on a couch and went upstairs, taking two steps at a time. "Dad?"

There was no reply.

Castiel rapped his knuckles on Charles' door. On receiving no reply, he turned the doorknob silently and entered the room, only to find his father sprawled over the table, fast asleep, his face pressed against the keyboard. Castiel smiled slightly, as he walked closer, but received no reaction from Charles, and observed that his dad's face was doing some writing of his own.

He was pretty sure that 'And then Claire qqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqq...' was not something he intended to write, and gave his dad a little push. The scruffily-bearded man didn't wake up, only stirred, lifting his face from the keyboard for a second as he changed the position of his head on the wooden table. Castiel utilised the second to push the keyboard from under Charles' head, and backspaced all the 'Q's. His eyes ran over the paragraph before that - he'd always found his dad's writings fascinating - and he leaned over his desk for a minute, reading the text with interest.

Then suddenly, Charles stirred again, and murmured something that sounded like, 'Chug Shurl...' And which Castiel deciphered as 'Chuck Shurley'. He'd always liked that name better, he thought to himself, as he tiptoed out of the room, wanting to ensure that his dad didn't wake up due to the noise.

Once satisfied that there was no waking soul in the house - Gabriel made his presence heard - Castiel made his way to the living room again, and settled himself on the sofa. He was alone in all of 'Paradise', and it was kind of a haunting feeling. He wasn't hungry, so no point nibbling on something for no reason, and he discovered the TV remote amidst the pillows, and switched it on. He turned it to some movie - Final Destination 5, he fancied it was - and leaned back amidst the comfortable cushions of the spotless white sofa - From Paris, courtesy of Gabriel - and recalled all that had happened, and why exactly he was an idiot.

Firstly, he'd agreed to go on a date with Dean Winchester.

Without giving a thought to what people would say, what Dean would think he felt about him, what he'd do on the date, or to any of the other relevant things he should've considered, he'd taken one look into Dean's eyes an agreed. When had he become that spontaneous, Castiel wondered, or act so much by the will of his heart?

Secondly, he'd said, extremely stupidly, that line about Dean's eyes. 

The moment following Castiel's stupid 'really, really beautiful eyes' dialogue, Dean had turned his head back to the road, but had smiled smugly the entire ride through, though Castiel had tried his best to convince Dean that he hadn't meant it (he had), he was pretty sure, Dean wasn't convinced. So yeah, another indication to Dean Winchester, that Castiel was attracted to him.

Wait, that was what-that-was, wasn't it? A crush. Castiel had finally admitted that was what it was. A stupid, boyish crush. After all, crush meant a temporary attraction or admiration for someone, often someone you know you cannot have a relationship with - Google Searched it, Castiel had - and that was all it was. Definitely not love or even close, Castiel assured himself. Just a momentary liking. Which will wear away. Everyone has a crush on someone like Dean Winchester once in their lifetimes, but that's all it remains. Because Dean Winchester was Dean Winchester and Castiel could not have fallen in love with such a person. There was no other alternative. It was a stupid, extremely-stupid crush. And that was it.

And thirdly, Castiel had again behaved like an idiot.

On reaching Castiel's house, Dean had turned to him, and asked if he should pick him up by seven.

Castiel had replied that it suited him. And, then, out of the blue, Castiel had asked Dean where he would go, from there.

Dean had stared at him helplessly for a minute, trying to conjure up a answer before he finally answered that he would be going back to the Bunker - what he called his house. But it was clearly a lie, and Castiel had seen it in Dean's eyes.

And, then, even more idiotically, Castiel had enquired why Dean felt the need to lie to him.

Dean had flushed redder than he ever saw him, and murmured something evasive, and philosophical.

Then, Castiel had used the patent eye-roll and, 'I know when you're lying' thing which is often used by idiots in such situations.

And Dean had reciprocated with a, 'I'm going to Practise', which had again been a lie, and Castiel had seen right through it. At least, this time, he had the decency to go along with it, and a moment of intense staring followed. After which, Dean had suddenly thrown back his head, and begun to laugh his crack-jawed laugh, and clarified that, he was 'not going to an ex-girlfriend's place for some pre-date action' and that Castiel 'needn't give him the suspicious wife look'.

And, then, Castiel had done the stupidest thing as of yet, and said, "I wasn't. And I'm not worried about that. I know that you wouldn't cheat on me."

He had no idea why he'd suddenly said that. Where had that even come from? 'Cheat' on him? Was Castiel's brain beginning to consider it a relationship too? And why would he just say that? Unthinkingly, unintelligibly, and illogically. It was so unlike Castiel, that he worried he was becoming more and more like those protagonists from dramas and teen-movies.

Well, of course, Dean had laughed his butt off at that. Castiel had hurriedly gotten out of the Impala and almost jogged to his door. 

And now, here he was, in solitude, wondering to himself what exactly had come over him when he'd said that, and why he was such a massive idiot. 

His eyes flickered up to the television, where a brunette had just died of electric shock. He felt a shiver run up his spine, as he changed the channel. Not because he was gutless or something, but because it wasn't exactly the most entertaining movie to watch, when one is doing pensive thinking about one's idiocy. He landed on 'Hitched' and didn't bother changing the channel once more.

Then suddenly - it could've been the movie - he remembered that he was going on a date with Dean Winchester and he hadn't even begun to think of how that would be. Pushing away the thoughts of his own idiocy from the front of his brain - a topic for a sunnier day - his mind raced with confusing ideas about the date.

It was his first date with Dean Winchester. 

Hell, it was his first date with anyone, since middle school. He'd gone on a Library-date-sort-of-thing with a girl called April back in eighth grade; back when he was less weirder. It'd ended with a kiss - his first kiss - on his cheek, and that was about all Castiel remembered of it. Since then, Castiel had never been on a date, let alone, been on a date with a guy. In fact, he'd discovered that he was into guys, purely by chance, when Balthazar's peck on his lips - he was overly affectionate when he was whiskey-drunk - had excited him more than a full make-out session with Hannah, a girl who apparently liked Castiel for a while, back in Freshman year. That didn't mean, however, that Castiel felt any sort of attraction towards Gabriel's rich British friend; just that it was more of an option for him, than an all-around-awesome girl like Hannah Becker.

Anyhow, back on track, Castiel realised he had no idea whatsoever of what he would do on the date. The 'date etiquettes', like the texting etiquettes, he had absolutely no idea of. What to wear, what to say, what not to say - because that's what Castiel needed the most coaching in - and how to conduct oneself. In less than a minute, Castiel had worked himself up to a frenzy - he had a gift for that - and was sweating, like he did whenever he was under tension.

Castiel muted the television, and picked up his cellphone, beginning to scroll down his contacts list nervously. He was himself hopeless, when it came to all of this, and asking one of his friends seemed like the best option at the moment. Although, who would he ask?

Charlie? No. She was too outgoing for him; her tastes, too flamboyant. And she'd begin to decide wedding settings if he did confide in her. So, no. Garth or Kevin? Well, neither of them had any more experience than he had. Kevin had had this one girlfriend since middle school, and they didn't go on dates anymore. They were too established for any of them to consciously put in an effort anymore. And he was sure even he had been on more dates than Garth. Who did that leave, in his extremely-limited-list of people to call? Gabriel.

He knew it wasn't exactly a wise decision to call Gabriel. And that if he gave it any more thought, he'd decide against it. So, before he could run it by himself, he clicked on Gabriel's name, and held the phone to his ear.

It rang several times, before he picked it up.

"You've reached me, Gabriel." He declared, picking up the phone. "Who d'ya wanna speak to?"

"You." Castiel scoffed lightly on the stupid question. "It's me, Castiel."

"A little birdie called Truecaller told me that." Gabriel chuckled, in a slightly distracted voice, as if his attention were focussed somewhere else altogether. "So, what's up, Castiel?"

"I," Castiel hesitated. "I had a q-question."

"They're for a school project." Gabriel suddenly spoke, in a serious voice. "They're for a grou-"

"I didn't say anything about your weird stash of weird things." Castiel sighed.

"Alright, then." Gabriel chuckled, once again. "What do you need?"

"I was wondering.." Castiel soon regretted making the call, before giving it enough thought. Why was he going to tell Gabriel about Dean? "If you could help me out with something.."

"Are you locked in a janitor's closet?" Gabriel enquired, in a quite serious tone.

"Why, n-"

"You need to ditch a girl? Is this the fake 'family emergency' call?" Gabriel asked, almost cheerfully. "Don't worry, I'll tell you all you need to sa-"

"No." Castiel was exasperated. "I need your advice on what to.." Castiel hesitated, once more. "I'm going on a date." He finally let out.

There was silence for a while.

"Gabriel?" Castiel confirmed.

"Shut up." Came Gabriel's urgent reply. "I'm in shock. Give me a minute to recover."

Castiel drummed his fingers on the armrest, impatiently. "I don't need your drama at the moment. Just..I don't know what to do."

"Of course, you don't!" Came Gabriel's ever-optimistic answer. "You haven't been on a proper date since aeons!" Castiel could just picture Gabriel's over-exaggerated eyebrow dance at this exaggeration.

"Yeah." Castiel said shortly. "So, just tell me what I should do."

"Okay." Gabriel's voice turned mock-serious. "This is an emergency. I'm gonna have to call the troops in."

"What?"

"That's aeroplane lingo." 

"How is this a aeroplane?" Castiel sighed. "And, who are these troops? Michael and Lucifer?"

"Ugh, no." Gabriel shut him up. "Of course not! And, don't, in all of eternity, mention those names to me again. We're fighting." He added, just as stubbornly as a first grader who'd gotten into a fight with his best friends over sharing crayons. 

"Alright. Who, then?"

"They're hypothetical, idiot." Gabriel chuckled again. "Now, back to the topic, date? Who's taking you out on a date?" He asked, his voice, as serious as Gabriel Novak got.

"That's not important." Castiel frowned, though Gabriel couldn't see it.

"Of course it is!" Gabriel insisted. "It helps me decide a lot of important date elements for you!"

"Like what?"

"Like whether you'll use condoms of strawberry flavour or orange?" He offered, after a moment's break, making Castiel scrunch his nose up in disgust, his mind a different scene altogether.

"You're disgusting, Gabe."

"Oh, come on, I have every right to know who is taking you out on a date." Gabriel protested.

"If I do tell you, will you stop the nonsense and help me out like a good brother?" Castiel conditioned, determined not to tell Gabriel, but playing him along.

"I will!" Gabriel promised.

"How about you help me out first, and then I'll tell you the name?" Castiel proposed, a sly smile sneaking to his lips, at his own cleverness.

Gabriel sounded like he was considering it. "I guess I could do that."

"Alright." Castiel smiled, for the first time in a long while. "Let's start with what I'll d-"

"We start with what you'll wear." Gabriel informed Castiel. 

Castiel scoffed. "Okay."

"Do you own anything other than white and black, and the insufferable blue?" 

"Yes." Castiel rolled his eyes.

"And that disgusting tan trenchcoat doesn't count."

"Yes." Castiel strained his brain to think about something he owned as such. He had to own more than four colours, right?

"How about something in Monty-Lightning-McQueen red?" 

"Don't be ridiculous." Castiel frowned. "I'm not wearing Raspberry Red on a date!"

"Ha! I was only testing you." Gabriel laughed. "You passed the test." He was silent for a moment. "How about whatever her favourite color is?"

What was Dean's favourite color? Castiel realised he didn't know. Black? Perhaps brown? Maybe even Green? "I don't know."

"Okay. We'll go with something you can't go wrong with. The LBD classic for guys." Gabriel boasted. Castiel waited, as Gabriel dramatically added, "The black blazer!"

"That's it?" Castiel asked, unimpressed.

"Of course not, idiot. You'll wear pants, preferably regular-fit, and a shirt or t-shirt with a weird quote." Gabriel decided. "And by weird, I want something that makes her head turn. You want her staring at you." He added, and Castiel could again, picture him looking extremely proud of himself.

"I don't need to worry about that, with him. And why do you sound like you do this often?" Castiel suspiciously remarked.

"Most of the people I know are socially dependent on me." Gabriel told Castiel. "That's none of your business. So, tell me, do you have a black blazer? With no designs, though, I want a classic black jacket."

"Aren't you making this too big a deal?" Castiel hesitated. Gabriel remained silent, possibly offended, and Castiel added a hasty, "Yes, I do."

"And T-shirt with a weird quote?" He asked, just as cheerfully as before.

"I'm afraid not." Castiel breathed out noisily.

"Well, non forsit." That meant 'no problem' in Latin. Gabriel was a show-off. "I have several. You can choose from my wardrobe."

Castiel raised his eyebrows. "Are you giving me permission to take shirts from your wardrobe?"

"Don't ever say I'm not the best brother in all the multiverse." Gabriel told Castiel seriously. "So, I've got plenty of weird t-shirts. But most of them have either alcohol or sex jokes, so that's not 'you'."

"And that's all there is to you." Castiel stifled a chuckle.

"Ha ha. Very funny." Gabriel replied, in a deadpanned tone. "I've got one with a cat on it, saying 'I had fun once. It was awful'. You should wear that one." Castiel's brain immediately did a rewind to the moment where Dean had compared him to a cat.

He was brought back to reality, as Gabriel ratted off more names. "'My romper is in the washer'. 'I'm a normal guy for 28 days in a month; then I can't be found for the rest two, and someone from the city is found dead in the woods'. Or," Gabriel sounded incredibly excited. "'I'm a Virgin. And this is a really old shirt'."

Castiel scoffed. "No, no, and no."

"How about 'The Mortuum Ambulatnem Rise'?" Gabriel offered. "It's Latin. And cool."

"That literally means the walking dead." Castiel informed Gabriel.

"Exactly! Cool!" Gabriel laughed.

Castiel sighed. "You know what, I'll manage from here. How about we move o-"

"Okay!" Gabriel cut him off. "Advice number one; offer to pay the whole bill!"

"Oka-"

"End up splitting it with them, though, to make them feel like you respect their decision and independence." He added.

Castiel thought about this. He wondered how things would go with Dean, in that area. "Okay. Good."

"Next," Gabriel hummed, as he worked his brain. "Yeah, will you be picking your date up?"

Castiel thought about it. He discovered, to his amusement, that he had no idea where Dean lived, although the Bunker had come up in conversation plenty of times. "Probably not." He answered.

"Well, okay. Will your date be picking you up?"

"Quite possibly." Castiel pursed his lips.

"Okay. Invite them in for a drink-" he paused mid-sentence. Silence prevailed for a few moments.

"Gabriel?" Castiel spoke into the mic of the phone, as muffled voices came from the other side, as if Gabriel had his palm over the speaker, and was talking to someone else. "Gabriel?"

After a long while, Gabriel returned, his voice clear, "Hey, listen, I'm gonna need to go."

Castiel frowned. "But-"

"Castiel, I need to go." Gabriel's voice was serious, but not Someone-stole-my-car-I-gotta-run-behind-him serious; instead, it was There-is-a-chance-I-get-laid serious. "Good luck."

"You're completel-" Castiel begun to tell off his older brother for being so selfish, but got cut off again.

"I'll call you in a while. If I can." There were more muffled voices. "Bye." He hung up abruptly.

Castiel could've bet that it was some girl-slash-guy situation, where Gabriel had a chance to 'score', which is why he ducked out of his promise to help Castiel and went away to get lucky himself. Typical Gabriel.

Flinging his phone on the sofa, Castiel stood up. His eyes flickered up at the clock, where the shorter hand was almost at 4, and the longer, at 11. "Seven," he reminded himself out loud. "That's a lot of time." He decided that he'd get some studying done; perhaps some of that Geography homework, or Physics - because Mr. Campbell wouldn't hesitate to give him a detention for that small a thing - and begun walking back upstairs.

But, his feet didn't take him to his room; instead he wandered away to one of Gabriel's rooms, through a door which had the clichéd 'Caution' sign. He opened Gabriel's wardrobe, swallowing, as the heap of clothes greeted him, several of them spilling out. Castiel might've been neater than most, but he wasn't going to arrange Gabriel's wardrobe for him. Instead, he scooped up the clothes in armfuls, and piled them up on the bed - silently hoping, Charles remain asleep, and not stumble upon this. 

Then, Castiel begun sorting out t-shirts, from the rest of the shirts, overcoats, jumpsuits (wait, what?) And Halloween Costumes (which could just as likely been stuff Gabriel wore on a daily basis). Then, he read through each of them - feeling more of a dork than he'd ever before, and wondering how the exceptionally dull Castiel Novak had become this guy who actually thought about what to wear three hours before he had to wear them. He had a feeling it had something to do with Dean Winchester, but then, most things nowadays, did.

Finally, after about twenty minutes, Castiel was done with his chore. He'd separated all the t-shirts which had lewd comments on them, or obscure pictures. Or too-weird ones. That left him with a surprisingly small number - that was Gabriel for you - and he'd laid them out on the bed.

And then he decided on a final four.

There was a white one with 'I SPEAK FLUENT AUREBESH' printed in Times New Roman. There was a plain black one with 'Beach Please' on it - wasn't that Dean's favourite swear word? - and a beach drawn in the back. There was a brick brown one with only 'My People Skills are Rusty' written on it - which Castiel had decided to keep for himself, whether he wore it that day or not. He related to it too much. And the last one was a baby blue one, 'I'm a Hug dealer' printed in a scary font.

If these were the most normal ones Castiel could find, just imagine what the others might've been like. Typical, typical Gabriel.

Suddenly, Castiel's phone rang. He picked it up, knowing it'd be Gabriel, and all prepared to tell him off.

"So now you're free to talk to me, huh, Gabriel?" He began, with an angry note in his voice. "Done with your emergen-"

"Hey, Cas." 

Castiel froze. "Dean?" He recognised immediately, and cursed under his breath. "Hello, Dean." He added, in a more composed tone.

"Look," Dean's voice was mellow yet captivating, and Castiel hung on to every word, as always. "If you're angry at me for whatever reason, you may yell at me or call me an asshole or whatever you want. But pray don't call me 'Gabriel'." Dean chuckled.

Castiel smiled. "I thought it was Gabriel, Dean."

"Okay, Cas," Dean dismissed, and Castiel could picture him waving his hand in the air dismissively. "You better not be disappointed that it's me."

"I'm not." Castiel replied unthinkingly.

Dean exhaled into the phone, and Castiel could picture him sighing, and smiling. He liked the picture he had in his head. "So, whatcha up to?"

Castiel stared at the mess around him. Even he knew the correct answer to Dean's question. "Nothing much. What about you?"

"Same." Dean replied casually; and as the last encounter in the car flashed across Castiel's mind, he was glad Dean had not taken it seriously. "Just thinking about you." He added, almost as if he had practised it.

Castiel smiled nonetheless. "Of course." He agreed, sarcastically.

"Although, you'd know that already, won't you, Cas?" Dean let out a snort of laughter. "Like you knew I wouldn't cheat on you?"

"That was a slip of tongue, Dean." Castiel frowned, although Dean couldn't possibly see it.

"Well, a guy's gotta dream, right?" Dean laughed once more, and Castiel's frown softened.

"What did you need, Dean?"

"Can't I call to just hear your voice?" Dean argued.

"That's very unlikely." Castiel replied, truthfully. "You have," he scanned his brain for a good word. "A life, as people say."

"Yeah, which revolves around you now." Dean chirped, making Castiel want to roll his eyes; but he only blushed.

"Why do you say things like that?" Castiel almost complained.

"I don't know." Dean replied, cheerfully. "I guess it is, along with being a method, of me confiding my feelings for you in catchphrases and quotes, also a good excuse to see you blush." He exhaled into the mic again. "I bet you're blushing right now."

"I'm definitely not." Castiel declared. He was.

"Lies hold no place in a bond like ours, Cas," Dean begun in his dramatic philosophical tone. "I can't wait for the day when you deem me near enough to not resort to lies, and as me, declare your love for m-"

"You still didn't tell me what you needed." Castiel cut him off gingerly, before he got going properly.

"Yeah, about that," Dean cleared his throat. "So, tonight at seven, I'm taking you out, right?"

Castiel nodded, though again, Dean couldn't see it. "I suppose so."

"So," Dean drawled in a sing-song voice. "Where do you wanna go?"

"On a date?"

"Yes," Dean agreed, patiently. "But where to?"

Castiel thought about it. "I don't kn-"

"Me neither." Dean interjected. "So, I narrowed it down to a few options. You choose, because it's both of our date."

Castiel swallowed. Was Dean actually putting in so much thinking about it? But then, wasn't he too doing the same thing? "Okay, tell me the options."

"Café Provence, Prairie Village." He begun.

"I haven't been there before." Castiel admitted. 

"Well, their Bouillabaisse is excellent." Dean informed Castiel, in a dramatic tone.

Castiel stifled his laughter. "Well, okay. Go on."

"The second is," Dean paused for a while to think to himself. "El Potro!" He announced.

"You aren't making these up, are you?" Castiel enquired.

"No! It's a Mexican place, with a patio!" He added, as if they were going to sit on the patio and eat it for dinner. "I've been there once before, on Bela's birthday. Heck of a rich-folks place, and they only serve for half a person when you order a full." 

Castiel smiled. "Why do you want to such a place?"

"Because both of us are rich, neither of us actually earn money and have, thus, no reason not to be lavish spendthrifts!" Dean explained. Castiel felt, in that moment, that Dean and Gabriel couldn't have been more like minded in that sense. "And, after all, food is pretty much the only thing worth spending the big bucks on."

Castiel smiled wider. "Still, no." He thought to himself. "Do we need to go to such unheard-of places? How about something more, in the city, and casual?"

"Like, what?" Dean could be heard losing enthusiasm. "Burgers and Fries and two cans of coke?"

"Yes!" Castiel agreed immediately.

Dean snorted. "You want our date to be in that kinda place? Like, a Burger King, or a Mc-"

"McDonald's." Castiel finished. "That sounds great, Dean."

"Because you can't see me, I'll inform you that I'm rolling my eyes dramatically, at this moment." Dean said, informatively.

"What's wrong with McDonald's?"

"Nothing." Dean sighed into the phone. "Nothing at all. It's fixed, then. We're going to McDonald's for our date."

"Thank you, Dean." Castiel spoke, unnecessarily. "It also saves you from having to make reservations."

"It does," Dean agreed. "But it also increases the chances of us bumping into someone from school during our date." He added.

"It does." Castiel agreed too, thoughtfully. "But it will be enjoyable."

"Even school is fun with you." Dean answered. "McDonald's will make the cut too, Cas."

Castiel's new name brought about a fresh smile on his face. "Of course."

"So, you like McDonald's a lot?"

"I do." Castiel admitted.

"Well, don't tell Sammy. He still bursts into tears each time Ronald McDonald shows up on TV!" Dean laughed.

"Sam's fear of clowns is quite-"

"Ridiculous?" Dean completed, still laughing, though Castiel knew surely, from the way Dean conducted himself around Sam, that he'd never actually laugh at his brother's expense; and if need be, would punch a clown 'on the button' if he annoyed Sammy.

"Not really." Castiel stood up faithfully, for his friend.

"You needn't stand up for him, he can't hear ya." Dean told Castiel, still chortling amidst words. "And, it'd still be so much alright if he were scared of normal kiddy stuff, you know?" Castiel smiled inwardly, at Dean calling Sam, a freshman, and larger in size than him, a kid. "Like, Dracula, or Casper, the fri-"

"Casper?" Castiel repeated. "I don't understand that reference."

Dean paused. "Oh, you know, Casper, the bloodthirsty friendly ghost!?" He tried.

Castiel pursed his lips. "I do not know."

"Oh, man, I'm gonna have to work on you about movie-stuff, Cas." Dean informed Castiel, in not so much an exasperated voice, as a fond one.

Castiel smiled a bit. "Perhaps you will."

"And, I also nee-"

His voice got cut off mid-sentence.

"Hello?" Castiel spoke. "Dean? Hello?" 

There was no reply. There must've been a mistake in the phone lines, and they'd gotten disconnected. 

Castiel, without thinking about it, was about to call Dean himself, when his phone rang. He picked it up, and held it to his ear. "Dean, you were saying something, and you got cut off-"

"Whoa, Castiel!" It was Gabriel's voice. "Slow down!"

Castiel cursed out loud.

"Did the noble Castiel Novak just swear?" Gabriel enquired, chuckling noisily, and Castiel could picture him stupidly grinning in unholy glee. "This is going into the Boy-Scouts-Report, undoubtedly."

Castiel shushed him. "Why did you call, Gabriel?"

"Says the guy who was whining about me hanging up, not even fifty minutes ago." Gabriel snorted unattractively. "Anyways, I don't need anything. Not anymore. I've got all the answers I need."

Castiel realised what had happened. "Look, Gabriel, you don't get i-"

"Oh, I get it alright!" Gabriel laughed back, cut him off. "I already had my suspicions, and frankly, the only reason I didn't ask you directly if it was Winchester, was because I didn't want you to feel worse if it weren't him and he'd ditched you already." Castiel resisted the urge to swear again. "But now, I'm sure! You couldn't have been calling Winchester to ask him what you should wear like you asked me, so bam!" He yelled, in excitement, forgetting Castiel was holding the speaker to his ear. "Dean Winchester is your date!"

Castiel scowled. "Gabriel, you're really annoying, you know that?"

"And you and Dean-o make a really pretty couple, you know that?" Gabriel imitated. "I can't even imagine how perfect the kids would turn out to be, with his sex appeal, and your nerdity." He added.

Castiel ignored the fact that what Gabriel said was not only inappropriate, but also impossible. "I'm hanging up on you, Gabriel."

"Is Dean calling?" Gabriel sang. "Is he already more important to you than your family?"

"Seriously, don't try to contact me again." Castiel screwed his eyes shut, mortified.

"Hey, don't say that!" Gabriel protested. "Kevin and Garth are too..'uncool' to be your Best Man, and I'm your only option, and plus, I really need to hear some dirt on Dean Winchester! I could totally use it against him!"

"Gabriel-" Castiel tried. Was he for real?

"You'd think I'd be worried about you dating 'the' Dean Winchester, but I'm not even slightly apprehensive! Go get him, Castiel, and now that I'm fighting with Mike and Luci, I think I might even be supportive of you guys! How awesome would it be i-"

"I hate you." Gabriel was no better than Charlie. If anything, he was worse. Castiel was a terrible judge of character, apparently. So, before he could get going properly, Castiel cut him off. 

"Dean loves you too."

"I should never have called you, in the first place!"

"Hey, you called me!" Gabriel defended, with a chuckle. "And, if you are gonna regret and blame something, I'd recommend your inability to conceal your excitement on thinking that it's Dean's phone, and calling me by his name in that haste."

"Don't make me give away all your Halloween Costumes to a store." Castiel threatened; though it wasn't a very scary threat, it was for Gabriel.

"No one makes us do anything-" Gabriel retorted, in a preachy voice, like no one but himself.

"Bye."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is progressing, and your feedback is really important to me now, so please leave behind comments! I'm sorry for the late update, but it IS long as promised earlier, so at least I kept one of my promises...I'll begin work on the next, right away, so...enjoy!!!
> 
> Have an awesome day,  
> ~ Sheya
> 
> Angels are Watching Over you. The good ones, I specify.


	4. "If you'd told me, when we talked, that you were gonna wear this, I'd have worn my 'I wuv hugs' tee, and we could've matched."

There's a lady who's sure  
All that glitters is gold  
And she's buying a stairway to heaven  
When she gets there she knows  
If the stores are all closed  
With a word she can get what she came for...

Castiel hummed to himself, as he fiddled with his 'Angels and Demons' keychain, trying to fit it on the key to his house. It was after he finally succeeded, that he realised what he'd been singing along to. A song, he didn't like a bit. It..just didn't speak to him. 

"Stupid Gabriel, and his stupid playlist." Castiel muttered to himself, stuffing the keychain with the title of his favourite book by Dan Brown and the keys to Paradise - his dad had sent his own to the dry cleaners via the pockets of his favourite jeans, and till Gabriel bought home a new lock that Tuesday, Castiel and Charles had decided to live in the constant fear of an intruder who'd retrieved the keys from 'Fluff 'n Stuff', as a lesson to remember - into his pocket, so that Castiel could leave his dad another key, in case he wanted to go out sometime when the brothers weren't home, although it was pretty unlikely.

They have a lot of keys to the same lock, Castiel mused, as he returned the rest of the keys to their place; the drawer beneath Castiel's sock drawer - the three residents of that house weren't the most organised people, big surprise. Gabriel had kind-of had a phase where he'd been distributing keys of Paradise to Lucifer, Michael, Raphael, and Kali - or is it Callie? - his long-term ex girlfriend. Charles had given one to his on-and-off girlfriend Becky, and though Castiel hadn't really given his keys to anyone - whom would he give his keys to? - he'd lost a more-than-normal amount. Lots of keys to the same lock, Castiel repeated to himself, as he caught a look in the mirror.

He looked quite normal, he was pleased to note, in spite of going by most of the things Gabriel had told him. He ran a hand through his hair self-consciously - messing it up, rather than smoothing it out, in his haste - and as his eyes followed the nervous twitches of the man behind the mirror, his brain wandered off to a land of it's own.

He'd said yes, to the date. And now it was almost seven, and Castiel was nervously looking at the door every minute; his ears strained for the familiar sound of the Impala. He'd been thinking about his answer, considering the consequences of saying 'no'; and he'd realised, that one way or the other, he would've said 'yes'. Not least, because few could say 'no' to someone who looks - complete with puppy-eyes and that bewitching smile - and sounds - a splendid baritone which somehow still made Castiel want to jump- like Dean Winchester, but if he did, Dean would probably keep on pestering till he gave in. Or, Castiel's self-loathing mind cut in, Dean might shrug and walk away, because he'd had enough of Castiel's doubts and uncertainties, and he'd just end up hooking up with some other girl of their class and never speak to Castiel again.

Castiel wasn't entirely sure how he'd feel about that.

He'd come about to enjoy Dean's unusual company. His whimsicality and his personality in whole, bemused him, and he'd learnt to take Dean's jokes lightly, and he was pretty humorous. And engaging to talk to, Castiel remembered, and he even enjoyed talking about completely baseless things with Dean Winchester. And then, he occasionally got this serious look in his face, and the broody-and-sinister guy came into being, or sometimes he'd just stare at Castiel with an unreadable look on his face, and Castiel would be even more intrigued. And, as if all of that wasn't enough, Castiel now yearned to see Dean Winchester laugh. It was miraculous, and beautiful, and his eyes would sparkle, or sometimes they'd be screwed shut, and his lips would spread out in a giant smile, or he would bend over, and it'd be incredible to watch him like that. Castiel considered it an accomplishment each time he was the reason behind it. It was complicated.

Too complicated.

And maybe, Castiel didn't want to completely stop talking to Dean Winchester.

As a friend, he promised himself.

A friend he's going on a date with, a part of him remembered.

The date is not a big deal, he stressed.

Of course. Dean Winchester was just Castiel's unbelievably gorgeous friend who had eyes that resembled emeralds, and who Castiel was going on a date with; a completely casual date, about which he'd just spent a few hours thinking about. That was it.

He was preparing to get into another rant with his own self, about how it was completely normal for a guy to feel that way about another guy, without there being love between them - small crush? Perhaps. But love? Oh, heavens, no - when Charles interrupted his thinking.

"You look good, son." He remarked, sitting on a sofa opposite Castiel's. "Going somewhere?"

"Kind of." Castiel answered, evasively. He could still feel Charles' eyes on him, so he added, "I'm going to get dinner with a friend. From school. But I'll be back soo-"

"Like, at a friend's place?" Charles interjected.

Castiel thought about it. "No, I don't think so." Dean taking Castiel on a date? Fine, he assumed. But Dean Winchester taking Castiel home was something else altogether. He never even talked about home. It was just one of the topics they didn't breach. "At McDonald's, actually."

"Get me one of those vanilla softies." Castiel's dad asked, excitedly. Castiel raised an eyebrow, apprehensively, and he thought about it. "Okay, no, that'd melt. Just get me nuggets." He seemed to be giving it some more thought. "With mustard sauce. And that cheesy dip-"

"Dad, I'm not going there to get you food." Castiel cut him off. Then added, in a more composed tone, "Alright. Chicken nuggets with mustard sauce and cheese di-"

"Is this, like, a date?"

"I suppose." Castiel pursed his lips. 

"You're going on a date..?" Charles repeated.

"Yes." Castiel swallowed, impatiently. Was it so unbelievable that he was going on a date? "But I'll be back soon."

"Yeah." Charles muttered dismissively, straightening in his seat. "I know you'll be back soon. But, tell me about this date. Who're you going with?" 

Castiel eyed his father, consciously. "A friend, from school."

"Is it Hannah?" Charles tried, excitedly. Castiel shook his head; he didn't even think of Hannah that way, though she was one of the only people to show persistent interest in him. "April?" He tried, again.

"Dad, I went out with April once in middle-school!" Castiel responded, exasperatedly.

"Okay," Charles raised a hand for peace. "Meg then? Meg Masters, am I righ-"

Castiel had a feeling that the guessing game could go on for awhile. "No." He cut him off. "It's Dean Winchester, alright? He's a guy from my class."

"Oh." Charles pulled back for a minute, as Castiel realised - more, like, it hit him like a ton of bricks - that his dad had no idea that he was interested in guys. Castiel didn't have that much of a sharing relationship with his dad, and such a situation had never arises whence he would come to know. Castiel bit his lip, and prepared a short speech mentally, on how to confess to his dad that he was gay. But Charles cut him off. "Oh, well, that doesn't matter." He smiled, and Castiel eyed him warily. Wasn't his dad supposed to be, shocked? How did he look so okay with it? "I never heard of him, from you before. What's he like?"

Castiel swallowed, realising that it was his dad trying to be a 'dad' to him, and know what he was like. But Castiel had quite literally come out to his dad that evening - receiving no major reactions in return - and he wasn't in the mood to tell his father about the dare - not that he himself gave it much thought nowadays - or too much in detail about Dean. "He's captain of the football team, brother of Sam Winchester, the Freshman President, and he owns a car, the 1967 Chevrolet Impala. He calls it 'Baby'." Castiel briefed his dad, blushing without meaning to.

Charles nodded his head, almost approvingly. "He asked you out?"

Castiel nodded, wanting to be swallowed by the Earth, rather than face any more questions. He just wished that Dean would arrive, already. 

"First date, then?" Charles asked, again. "How long have you known each other?"

"I guess." Castiel furrowed his eyebrows. Could his dad show a little less interest in Dean? "About fifteen days, I'd say." He added. Two-weeks-anniversary.

"Well, okay," Charles leaned back in his seat. "So, you like him?"

Castiel was sure he turned redder than the t-shirt Gabriel was pestering him to wear, on the phone, before. "No." He frowned.

"And, does he like yo-" 

The doorbell interrupted him.

Castiel, almost gratefully, strode up to the front door. Charles remained where he sat, and watched the man, who entered, carefully. His eyes ran over the good-looking and well-built man in a leather jacket, jeans and hunting boots, possibly a couple of inches taller than his son, who surveyed the house with curious green eyes, as he walked in. Charles smiled, as their eyes met. 

Castiel almost stared at Dean, as he entered, taking long, confident steps as he sized up Paradise as if he were to fight battles in there. Dean wore a leather jacket, over a brick-brown shirt, with grey jeans and hunting boots. An amulet was visible - Castiel had never seen it before - and there was something about Dean's hair that looked like some effort had been put into it. Perhaps, hair gel, Castiel realised, almost pleased. His green eyes were clear and inquisitive, and lingered familiarly on Castiel, for only a second, before they wandered on a tour of their own. Then his eyes met Charles's, and as his dad smiled stupidly, Castiel wanted to get Dean out of there before the questioning begun.

"There's really no need to come in," Castiel almost urged Dean. "I'm ready. We can leave."

Dean looked at Castiel directly, his lip twitching into a smirk. "Are you hiding a secret girlfriend in here?" His smolder gave way to a teasing grin. "Or perhaps a stash of cherry pies?"

Castiel smiled back, as he shook his head. "Only my dad."

Dean, at this, let go of Castiel's eyes, and hooked his gaze with Charles, a smile sprouting on his lips, as he did so. "Hello, Mr. Novak." He greeted, politely. Castiel identified his tone and smile to be the one he put up for teachers.

"Hi." Charles put down a pillow from his lap, and begun to stand up. "Dean, right?"

"An accurate estimation." He said, with a small chuckle, as he walked up to Charles, and Charles stood up. Dad is in his pyjamas, Castiel noted, embarrassedly, as the two men shook hands; Dean taller than Charles by several inches. "Dean Winchester."

"Not much of an estimation," Charles smiled back. "Castiel and I were just talking about you."

Dean shared a look with Castiel, who was staring at the ground. He'd always seen dads like this, in the movies. But for them to exist in real life, and in Castiel's life!

"Only the good stuff, I pray." Dean put on a dramatic look of terror.

"And your prayers are answered," Charles laughed back. "I only know that you captain the football team, have a brother in the Student Council, and that you own a vintage car."

Dean looked at Castiel once more, and sure enough, Castiel was staring haplessly at him. He smiled reassuringly, turning back to Charles. "That's quite all there is to be said, Mr. Novak."

It was Charles' turn to look at Castiel. "Shurley, actually. Chuck Shurley." He corrected, finding Dean's eyes again. "These few days, close to the launch of my new book, I try to get used to my pseudonym, so that I respond by it, at book-signings and conventions." He explained. 

"Yeah, Cas told me something about that," Dean answered, with a confidence as if he'd done this - meeting parents - thing often. "Good luck with it, sir."

Sir? Sir? Castiel thought to himself. Dean was like, straight out of the stupid script of a movie. Who calls anyone 'sir' anymore? 

"My job is done. It's the readers' turn, now." Charles - Chuck - replied.

"I'm sure they'll like it." Dean smiled, politely. Castiel thought for a moment on just how great at changing moods, Dean was, amusedly. He could flare up with rage and punch someone, and calm down and make him a nickname, within seconds. And now this? Talking to a date's parent, right like they did it in the 60's.

"You tell me if you do," Chuck laughed.

"I'll make a point to."

Castiel interjected here. Too much formalities. "Dean. Let's go. Dad, we'll be back soon." He promised, beginning to put on his trenchcoat, as Dean looked at him, closely. 

"Yeah, bring him back soon." Chuck sarcastically turned to Dean. "Because he isn't eighteen and does have a curfew and I am going to wait for him to return, right in this living room, and not go off to bed to re-edit the ending." He enacted out, with a grin.

Dean laughed back. "Okay, and best of luck with your ending."

"Yeah," Charles grinned, and Castiel was assured to see him sit down. It meant they could leave this room with the weird questions which might be asked, anytime. "No doubt, endings are the hardest part. But then, nothing ever really ends. Does it?"

Dean blinked, and slowly turned his head to Castiel. "I guess not." He took a step towards Castiel. "So, ready, Cas?"

Castiel blinked too. "Yeah."

"Bye, Chuck Shurley." Dean offered, as he strode out the door with a similar pace as before. Castiel turned to look at Chuck carefully.

"I'll b-"

"Be back soon, yeah, I know." Chuck laughed. "He seems cool, though that interaction was like, straight out of a skit. Have a good time."

Castiel smiled slightly. Thankfully, his dad felt the same way. "Bye, dad."

"Do you think he'd have a problem with his name being used in 'Wayward Sisters'?" Chuck asked, just as Castiel was closing the door behind him.

Castiel raised his head, and met his dad's serious eyes. "I don't know. I'll ask him." He offered, as he walked down the porch, and across the garden, to Dean's Impala.

Dean was there, sure enough, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. "Hey, Cas!" He announced, opening Castiel's door for him.

"You always wanted to do that," Castiel teased, as he got into the front seat, next to Dean. 

"Yeah, opening the door for you, has been my dream since, I don't know, forever!" Dean replied, dramatically, as he entered through the door on the other side, and looked at Castiel properly. "Before you say something else, that," he pointed with a finger at Paradise. "Was not my best. I guess I was nervous, with it being you and all. But it's just a long while since I did the meet-parents thi-"

"I'm relieved that I'm not the only one who thought that that belonged in a bad Nicholas Sparks book." Castiel replied, with a grin, surprised inwardly at how openly they were talking already.

"It was like a family drama at Broadway." Dean agreed. "Although I'm far too beautiful for Broadway. I belong under the big lights. The camera loves-"

"You, I know." Castiel grinned broader. 

"Now, we're completing each other's sentences!" Dean beamed. "That's awesome!"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "No, you just praise yourself in the same words, a lot."

"Wanna try it again?" Dean ignored Castiel's addition. "You can complete my sentence!" He cleared his throat, and then began to speak slowly, as if speaking to a three-year-old. "We...are...going...on...a...?" He paused suggestively.

"Bear Hunt?" Castiel completed, cheekily. 

Dean raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Touché. But the kid-book by Michael Rosen wasn't what I was looking for. Maybe we still need to practise." He winked. "Correct answer was, on a date!"

Castiel grinned. "Yes, sorry, I think I forgot." He replied, sarcastically. As if he could.

"I'm sure you didn't." Dean shrugged, nonchalantly. "Because you cleaned up for our date."

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "Cleaned up?"

"You know, wore a black blazer, actually put in some time into your hair, and I think I smell Hugo Boss, over Baby's car-scent." He teased.

Castiel blushed furiously. He knew it'd been a bad idea. "Gabriel said it suited my personality," he murmured, not knowing what else to say.

"And," Dean continued, in an upbeat tone. "You managed to turn up looking even better than you do everyday. I like you all suave and dapper, and that you got dressed up for me." He drew air-quotes.

Castiel frowned, realising, as he stared at Dean's face, that he had leverage too. "In any case, Dean, you got 'cleaned up' for this date too." The thought gave him a strange satisfaction, and he suspected it'd show on his face. "You shaved, gelled your hair, and wore those weird boots."

"I love how you look at me so closely," Dean winked back, unaffected.

"That's not the point."

"Correct." Dean agreed, with a wiggle of his eyebrows. "The point is that you're excited to go on this date, and you better admit it."

"Must we have this completely pointless conversation?"

"Uh, duh." Dean chuckled.

Castiel smiled.

"And, anyways," Dean continued. "Anybody would be excited to go on this date. Because, the things I have in mind..." Dean's voice trailed off, dramatically. 

"Was that supposed to be scary?" 

"No. It was supposed to be 'suggestive'." Dean shrugged.

"Just drive, Dean." Castiel patted the Impala's dashboard with his left hand.

"So, you can't wait for our date to start off!" Dean reacted, enthusiastically. And then, put on a sympathetic sage like expression. "But, you see, the date's started off already. This car ride is part of it, because we've had some of our most romantic moments in-slash-near it."

Castiel swallowed. The 'almost' kiss, sprung to his mind. He opened his mouth to speak, but Dean beat him to it.

"Hold that thought. I've got something for you." He turned to the backside, and begun stretching out to reach something. He dug out a mixtape a second later, and showed it to Castiel with a giant smile. "It's for you," he added, as Castiel carefully took it into his hands.

"Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx." Castiel read aloud, and turned to Dean, with a softened expression on his face. 

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Dean ducked his head between both of his arms, which gripped the steering-wheel, almost shyly. "Nobody listens to mixtapes, anymore - they're not cool - they're very 90's - but I just thought it'd be," Dean paused, and lifted his head again. "Nice."

"It is nice." Castiel grinned a bit. 

"Cool." Dean straightened, almost as if not nervous anymore.

"Yeah, cool." Castiel agreed, handing it back to Dean.

"It's a gift, you keep those." Dean grinned cheekily.

"Thank you for introducing me to the concept of 'gifts', Dean." Castiel retorted, sarcastically, the smile not budging from his lips. "I just wanted you to put it into the player." He smiled broader, mirroring Dean. "I want to listen to it."

"Okay, sure." Dean took it happily, and inserted it into the player. It took a moment to read it, and then the first song on the list started.

Castiel pressed his lips together, identifying it instantly. He glanced sideways at Dean, who was revving up the engine, finally ready to drive, a very pleased smile on his face, and his green eyes almost shining happily. Castiel smiled, too.

There's a lady who's sure  
All that glitters is gold  
And she's buying a stairway to heaven  
When she gets there she knows  
If the stores are all closed  
With a word she can get what she came for

"Oh, oh, oh, oh," Dean bobbed his head along, as he sang, looking at Castiel partially, as if urging him to sing too.

"She's buying a Stairway to Heaven!" Castiel obliged, pleased at Dean's bright, and genuine smile, more than anything else, at the moment. "There's a sign on the wall..." 

Maybe, the song was not so bad after all.

***

"Good evening sir, welcome to McDonald's." 

"Hello." Castiel replied, as Dean nodded his head, in acknowledgement. 

"What would you like to order?" The guy behind the counter, in the typical red uniform, with his blonde hair puffing out of his hat. His nametag read 'Alfie', and he had a bright smile on his face. He couldn't have been much older than Dean and Castiel. 

"What would you like to order?" Dean repeated, facing Castiel. Castiel was standing with crossed arms, and studying the menu - for probably the millionth time - as Dean leant against the counter.

"A-" Castiel began.

"Today's special is the Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese." Alfie interjected.

Castiel looked up from the menu. "I'll have that." He placed the menu back on the counter. "And French Fries."

"Small, Medium, or Large?"

"Medium." Castiel told him.

"Should I add a drink, and make it a Happy Meal?" Alfie asked, almost out of habit.

"Sure." Castiel smiled. "A Coca-cola, and make it a Happy Meal." He chanced a look at Dean, who was almost beaming in amusement. "What?" Castiel raised an eyebrow. "You're staring at me." He explained, as Dean furrowed his eyebrow.

"You're pretty," Dean smiled lopsidedly.

Castiel dimpled, and turned to Dean, facing him. "Thank you, Dean."

"What about you, sir?" Alfie interrupted, turning to Dean.

"A Big Mac, a large Onion Rings, and an Oreo Milkshake." Dean replied instantly, not moving his eyes from Castiel.

"Oreos?" Castiel repeated, almost fondly.

"Uh-uh." Dean nodded, and turned his head to Alfie. "And add a rainbow bendy-straw to the bill." 

Castiel laughed out loud, as Alfie confirmed their order, and printed out the bill. Castiel and Dean split the bill in half, both having the sense to pay for their part instead of doing the I'll-pay-the-bill dance. Alfie informed them, that due to there being only a few customers, some guy will serve them, on their table, instead of them having to return to take their tray. Both Dean and Castiel grinned, gratefully.

Dean led Castiel to a table in a far corner. 

"May I take your coat?" He bowed, dramatically, after pulling out a chair for Castiel.

"Are you cold?" Castiel grinned back, taking his trenchcoat off himself, and draping it over the red plastic chair, as he sat down on it.

Dean took the chair opposite him, and smiled, taking off his leather jacket, to reveal an almost-formal brick brown shirt, which fit him like second skin. "That's funny." He leaned back in his chair, and then suddenly straightened. "Wait a second." He rubbed his eyes so vigorously, that he almost rubbed them off his face. "Is what I'm seeing true?"

"What are you seeing?" Castiel enquired, looking at himself.

"Does your T-shirt have a quote on it?" Dean looked as surprised as the guy who probably was the first to scribble stuff on a T-shirt and discover that people actually like it. "Do I read the word 'Hugs'?"

Castiel sighed. "You needn't react so violently." He parted his black blazer so that Dean could read the quote.

"I'm a Hug Dealer." Dean read aloud; then raises his eyes from Castiel's chest, back to his eyes, which held a look of unrivalled joy. "Seriously? You're wearing that shirt?"

Castiel shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "Yeah, so?"

"I'm willing to bet you that this was Gabriel's idea." Dean grinned, looking enthralled. "I'm willing to bet you a hu-"

"You don't need to bet anything. It was Gabriel's idea." Castiel was now struggling, not to blush, as Dean's eyes almost studied his T-shirt, exactly as Gabriel had predicted.

"Well, he only made use of your strengths." Dean winked. "By drawing my eyes to your very attractiv-"

"Please," Castiel cut him off, now at the peak of his embarrassment. "Can we talk about something else, Dean?"

"Okay, okay." Dean relented, easily. "Just one last thing," he leaned in closer. "If you'd told me, when we talked, that you were gonna wear this, I'd have worn my 'I wuv hugs' tee, and we could've matched."

Castiel afforded a grin here. "You have a 'I wuv hugs' tee?" 

"You're not allowed to sound like that, Huggy-bear." Dean laughed.

Castiel cringed. "No, no, no." He shook his head, with a smile apparating onto his lips. "You do not have my permission to call me 'Huggy-bear', Dean. I do no-"

"Then, what am I supposed to call you?" Dean resounded, smiling just as easily. "Happy Meal?"

"Do I call you 'Oreo Milkshake' then?" Castiel tried to counter.

"My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard," Dean immediately burst into the song, by Kelis, purposefully, touching Castiel's foot with his foot, as he winked. He stopped, a moment later, as two sixteen-year-old girls from a few tables away, begun to stare at him weirdly, and spoke in a lower voice. "Are you still interested in calling me that, Cas?"

Castiel frowned. "No." He rolled his eyes. "Because I don't want all the boys to come to the yard, Dean." Castiel deadpanned on purpose, to make Dean laugh as he did. 

"You're such a baby." Dean declared, after recovering from his fit of laughter. Castiel had been watching him laugh with fascination - just as he always had - but he crossed his brows into a frown, as Dean called him a 'baby'. 

He shook his head. "I'm not a baby." He opened his mouth to explain how he was physically and psychologically too big-slash-mature to be one, but was cut off.

"Yep, you are." Dean nodded his head sagely. "A baby in a trenchcoat."

"You're ridiculous." Castiel announced, blushing softly. "And I'm not wearing a trenchcoat at the moment, so-"

"Congratulations, I guess," Dean teased, with a smirk. "I knew you'd be able to 'get over' it, some time. 'Out of', actually." He proceeded to chortle at his own joke, as Castiel merely shook his head, in light disagreement of the unentertaining joke, but his eyes remaining on Dean, studying his smile, and smiled.

"Enjoy your food." A random guy, in the red uniform, landed two separate trays in front of Castiel and Dean, respectively. 

"We will," Dean informed them guy, looking at his large burger, as Castiel looked at the guy in the eyes, and said, "Thank you."

Dean had uncovered his 'Big Mac', and was eyeing it hungrily. "This looks good." He looked at Castiel. "Truthfully, this is better than El Potro or Café Provence."

Castiel agreed, as he fished out his burger, and fries, and cola, from his brown paper bag, leaving only the Happy Meal toy inside. He glanced at Dean, who was smugly taking the first bite of his burger, and unwrapped his own burger, and took a bite, relishing the taste of the meat, and cheese, and everything in it.

For a few minutes, silence prevailed, as the both of them savoured their respective burgers, Dean noisily slurping his Oreo Milkshake once in a while, and Castiel sipping quietly on his cola, till all that remained was ice.

Literally, for a few moments, there were no words said. But looks were exchanged, and eyes met, and smiles surfaced, and it was a completely comforting scene, to Castiel. With Dean, it didn't even feel like a date or anything, it just felt like any other normal meal with family. And that was saying something.

"You're very quiet today," Castiel spoke, at length, wiping his fingers clean on the white paper napkin.

"Firstly, we mustn't talk while eating." Dean begun, raising his index finger. "And secondly, this burger is too fucking good. And lastly, you were making these breathtakingly filthy noises as you ate, and licking your lips and shit, and I guess, I was occupied with staring at you." Dean informed Castiel, frankly. Castiel admired the frankness, but that didn't stop him from blushing to a pinkish shade of red.

He bit his lip, and focussed his attention on the remaining fries. "I-I had no idea, Dean. I'm sor-"

"Hey, what are you apologizing for, cherry-pie!?" Dean cut him off, and a flicker of a smile went through Castiel at the old nickname. "Giving a guy a good time?"

Castiel scowled. "I did not gi-"

"I'm gonna be the judge of that." Dean declared, solemnly.

Castiel sighed, and his eyes fell on Dean's empty tray. "Dean, should I order something else for us?"

"I'd like another milkshake, as long as you share it with me." Dean batted his eyelashes, and smirked devilishly.

"I meant, like another large fries for the table. Or nuggets, or something." 

"Alright." Dean leaned back in his seat. "After all, the date has only just started. We might've rushed through the food-part like walruses, but we didn't even start talking."

Castiel, to his own surprise, agreed with the sentiment. At least his mouth did. "I know, we didn't say a single new thing about ourselves."

"Which is what dates are about." Dean added. "Talking, and getting to know the other person better."

"Yes," Castiel nodded, not really thinking about what he was saying. "An exploration of interests, and a means to make sure if you actually know the person, and are compatible, or if..." His voice trailed away, loosely.

"What are we doing?" Dean asked, after a beat of silence. "Neither of us know what to talk about, do we?"

Castiel shook his head. "We'll discuss the merits of a date, through the rest of the date, if we go on like this." He sighed, breathing down his own shirt, as his chin pressed against his chest. "I haven't been on a date since ages."

"I haven't been on a date since," Dean began, and stopped abruptly. He cleared his throat. "Lisa. Freshman year, then."

Castiel raised his eyebrows, almost disbelievingly. "Seriously?"

"Do you count hooking up at strange clubs or senior parties, dates?" Dean countered.

"I don't." Castiel admitted, and the topic was dropped. 

"Why?" Dean suddenly asked, and Castiel raised his head again.

He blinked.

"Why have you not been on more dates?"

"I could ask the same of you." Castiel swallowed, surprised by his own frankness. 

"I guess," Dean's voice trailed off. "Never actually saw anyone I was all that interested in. Interested enough to take out to a meal outside school, and try to pursue a relationship with." He added, his eyes cast downwards.

Castiel nodded. "Quite the same for me, too."

"I'm sure there was no lack of offers..?" Dean raised an eyebrow suggestively.

Castiel reflected back on Hannah. And the other few girls who've expressed interest. "Not really."

Dean half-smiled. "I knew I wasn't the only one who thought your cerulean blue eyes were the most beautiful thing in all of creation," Dean begun, dramatically. And then shrugged. "And that you were really awesome."

Castiel shot Dean an amused smile. "I'm going to take that as a compliment, so thank you."

"It was a compliment, so my pleasure." Dean imitated Castiel, earning himself an indulgent smile.

"I'll go order." Castiel cleared his throat.

"And I'll be here missing you." Dean added, insufferably.

"Do you even realise how weird that sounds?" Castiel smiled, inspite of himself.

"Do you even realise that I mean it, that I don't care, and that the words might be weird, but coming from me, they are soaked in awesomeness?" Dean blinked.

"No, I don't." Castiel frowned back. "Any particular demands?"

"Nope." Dean answered, taking out his phone, and beginning to fiddle with it. 

Castiel walked to the counter, and ordered two large coca colas, and a large fries. Alfie made the bill, and he paid it, smiling at him, as he collected his bill, and thanked him. He returned to his place, where Dean had put down his phone, and now sat, almost eagerly leaning forward against the food.

"What?"

"Questions." Dean answered, happily. "That's what we're gonna do. We're gonna ask each other questions."

Castiel perked his eyebrow, pressing him to continue. "Okay...?" 

"Yeah. You know, it'll be fun." Dean urged. "It's a great way to know new stuff about each other, and it'll be spontaneous, and we can have a time limit an-"

"Did you Google it, Dean?"

"I might have." Dean flashed his most adorable smile, and stuck out his lip mutinously. "Is that bad?"

"Only a little." Castiel laughed, teasingly.

"It shows that I'm putting in an effort," Dean crossed his arms across his chest. "Do you wanna do this with me, or d'you wanna do what I do on most of my dates?" Dean challenged, a tinge of the Dean Winchester Castiel knew before coming into the Dean he'd come to like, and enjoy himself openly with. "Because I'm perfectly willing."

Castiel swatted at Dean, a lazy smile on his face. "Let's do the questions, Dean. It will be fun."

"Okay." Dean dimpled a smile. 

"You start." Castiel said.

"No!" Dean drew back. "I gave the idea, so now you're supposed to start!"

"You're making up rules." Castiel squinted.

"Shut up, you adorable jackass, and ask me the first question." Dean said with a serious expression. 

Castiel cleared his throat, and just as the waiter placed the tray in front of them, Castiel shot at Dean, the first of many questions. "Do you have any pets?"

Dean took a fry, and put it into his mouth, whole. "If Sammy counts, then yes."

"Why would Sam count as one?" Castiel smiled.

"Uh, firstly, have you seen him?" Dean laughed. "He's got the puppy-eyes, and the shaggy hair all fixed." Dean gestured, with his hand. "And he eats like a freaking truck, and is the size of a Basset Hound, so well...only thing he's missing is a tail, I guess. I bet there's fleas in that Rapunzel-head of his." 

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, and shook his head. "I'm sure there aren't any."

"Hey, which Winchester are you on a date with?" Dean scrunched his nose, annoyed.

Castiel sucked in a breath, and exhaled with a sigh. "The shorter one, apparently." He smirked, proud of himself.

"Hey, I'm still taller than you, honey." Dean pointed a fry at Castiel. "You're only about yay big." He gestured, his hand wavering in the air near his ear. 

"I'm taller than my brother, nonetheless." Castiel pointed out.

"That's because your brother's, like, four feet tall." Dean shrugged. "Anyways, my question."

"Sure. I'm ready." Castiel helped himself to a fry, from the plate.

"Okay. Alright." Dean thought about it. "How do you like your coffee?"

Castiel smiled, at the unusual question. "Okay," he thought about it. "I like a Café Latte, I guess. With lots of milk. Sometimes," Castiel smiled, remembering how Chuck used to make, and he used to sneak a sip, as a kid. "With whipped cream."

Dean's face lit up with a smile. "Oh, that sounds adorable."

"Thank you, Dean." Castiel smiled broader, his eyes squinting.

"Okay, your question." 

"Huh," Castiel thought about it. "Who's your favourite author?"

"I don't read much, but Kurt Vonnegut, I guess." Dean scrunched his nose, thinking about it. "Heard of him? Slaughterhouse, Cat's Cradle?" He helped.

"Yes, I've heard of him, Dean, I've not been living under a rock." Castiel grinned. "And I like that you like Vonnegut."

"You're not surprised?" Dean urged. "Me? And Vonnegut? I've been told I seem more of an Avengers-Comic-book kind of guy."

"Well, I think you're both." Castiel offered.

"I think I am both, too." Dean agreed. "Well, my question then." He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I got one. What are your hobbies?"

"Reading," Castiel spoke, unthinkingly. "I love reading, be it novels, or short stories, or even autobiographies. And..I guess that's it."

"I wouldn't say I'm too surprised." Dean raised his eyebrows, pointedly.

"I know." Castiel agreed.

"But, I still think it's awesome." Dean said, quickly.

"I'm sure your hobbies are much more interesting." Castiel half-smiled.

"Not really." Dean urged. "I play the guitar, and I like to drive around in Baby. That's about it." He paused for a moment. "No, wait, I like cooking too, at times. And, of course, there's footbal-"

"See what I mean?" 

"That's not the point." Dean touched Castiel's hand with his, and a shiver ran up Castiel's spine. "I think you're very interesting, and that's the point."

"Okay." Castiel breathed tentatively. "My turn, then. What," he paused. "Are you scared of?"

"Flying." Dean replied, before Castiel properly finished his question.

"Flying?" Castiel repeated.

"Yep." Dean nodded his head, with a hint of a nervous smile, which Castiel found adorable. "I'm terrified of flying. Airplanes, and shit. Terrified of it."

"Of heights too?" Castiel asked, a tinge of hope in him.

"As in, the top of the rope in Gym?" Dean laughed. "No, that's not exactly what I mean."

Castiel nodded, a bit disappointed. "Okay."

"Why, are you?" Dean prompted.

"A little." Castiel pursed his lips. "Like, not of climbing up, but of looking down. Like, from the top of a mountain, or the ro-"

"You're not afraid of heights," Dean cut him off, with an understanding smile. "You're afraid of falling from heights."

"I-I suppose." Castiel bit his lip. 

"This is so..weird... I'm afraid of flying, and you're afraid of falling." He leaned in, his fingers ghosting over Castiel's wrist. Shivers. "We'll never argue about our holiday destinations." He grinned broadly.

Castiel shook his head. "That's what you got from that?"

"I considered saying something poetic and meaningful," Dean explained. "But then I got the feeling that you'd scoff and tell me to shove that shit up my ass-"

"-when did I ever say that-"

"So I thought the better of it." Dean completed. "Anyhow, my question." Dean cleared his throat. "What are your favourite things to talk about? Name three."

"Uh, okay..." Castiel thought about it. "History, I guess?"

"That's one."

"Music?"

"Yeah, that counts."

"And," Castiel racked his brains about it. "The Bee Movie."

Dean burst out laughing, "The Bee Movie, Cas?"

"Yes." Castiel stifled a smile. "Have you seen it, Dean?"

"Uh, no." Dean rolled his eyes, dramatically. "That's your favorite movie?"

"One of them, yes." Castiel enjoyed the look Dean gave him. 

"What are the others?" Dean finally stopped laughing.

"The Breakfast Club." Castiel offered.

"Why?" Dean looked almost excited. 

"Because what we found out is that each one of us one of us is a brain and an athlete, and a basket case, a princess, and a criminal. Does that answer your question? Sincerely yours, The Breakfast Club." Castiel obliged, with the last line of the movie.

"That is so what I wanted for an answer." Dean slammed his hand on the table, with a smile as giant as any smile Castiel had ever seen. Castiel smiled, in response too. "Man, you're awesome!"

"Which is your favourite movie genre, Dean?" Castiel asked, interestedly.

"I like all movies as long as they aren't chick-flicks, you know," Dean winked. "But if we were to go see a movie together, it'd be a bad movie, okay?"

"That doesn't make sense." Castiel said. "Why would we go see a bad movie, together?"

"What, then I'll have your total attention!" Dean winked. "And, what, am I gonna make sarcastic remarks to strangers?"

Castiel shrugged. "I guess you have a point."

"Okay, okay," Dean turned calm; his expression serious. "I have a serious question for you. Who's your favourite person in the world?"

Castiel squinted. "That's a serious question, indeed."

"Yeah, we're past the stage of stupid questions." Dean nodded, sagely.

Castiel dimpled. "I guess, I'm going to have to say," he thought about it. "My dad."

"Chuck Shurley, you mean," Dean laughed.

"Actually, I do mean Chuck Shurley," Castiel shrugged. "My dad used to go by that name before my Granduncle Novak died, and he inherited all that wealth, and we shifted to Lawrence, and to Paradise, and he took to writing as a career." Castiel motioned with his hands, as he spoke. "Now, he's Charles Novak, and I guess, I always liked Chuck Shurley more." Castiel wondered how he was so truthful to Dean; and deciphered that it probably had something to do with how interestedly Dean was listening to him. Castiel liked good listeners.

"I have a question," Dean raised his hand, as if in class. Castiel nodded. "So, where did you live before Paradise?"

"Deadwood, South Dakota." Castiel smiled, reminiscently. "Dad rented this small - like, really small - apartment over a pharmacy, and he worked 12-hour shifts, and it was just me and Gabriel, all day long. I mean, firstly, it was only me and dad, but then he married Gabriel's mother, who ended up divorcing him, and Gabriel was her son with this other rich guy, and dad kinda took him in, and then it was the three of us."

"So, Gabriel's not your real brother?"

"He's not even properly a step brother." Castiel corrected. "But, yeah, we grew up like that, so we were pretty close. And Gabriel was older than me, and he used to cook all this great stuff, and I always predicted that he'd become a gourmet chef by the time we were adults, you know, and even now, he sometimes cooks, and that's like the only thing which I can remember..when we used to live together, and it was so different, and in spite of less time, there was time for everybody, and now.."

"You're all drifting apart." Dean helped.

"Yeah." Castiel ran his tongue over his chapped lip. "'Drifting apart' is a good way to put it." There was a bitterness in his voice.

"I get it, Cas." Dean's fingers were once again, touching Castiel's, but instead of the shiver, it was warmth. Castiel looked into Dean's eyes; pools of emotions, and understanding. "I completely get it."

"You know, Gabriel moved out of Paradise." Castiel squinted. "He lives in this beautiful condo, on the other side of the city, now. And, although he drops in from time to time, or like every three days or so, it's just not the same, you know."

"I couldn't imagine living without Sam." Dean replied, emphatically. "It'd just be weird not having that idiot around, all the time."

"Exactly," Castiel pursed his lips for a moment. "And, dad too. He doesn't have time, anymore. Most of the time, he's writing. The time when he's not writing, he's promoting his book, at signings, and conventions, or at award ceremonies and crap." Castiel drew in a breath. "It's almost like we don't ever talk."

"After being so close with him before, that must feel bad." Dean nodded his head, slightly.

"Uh-uh." Castiel nodded. "But sometimes, it feels like I'm the only one who even thinks like that. I mean, I doubt Gabriel even thinks about the past, and dad is just too busy for dwelling upon matters of this kind. I'm like the only one, who's got the time to think of his stupid stuff."

"It's not stupid, Cas." Dean bit his lip. "It's not stupid, at all. And I..feel you."

"Really?" 

"Yeah." Dean breathed deeply. "I never had a close relationship with my dad. I mean, since I can remember, the family's been rich, and dad has been so busy with his own life, that we never even got to bond. And, mom's death, only seemed to worsen things. He doesn't give a damn about me, and Sammy, he cares about, but can only seem to yell at, all the fucking time."

"Yell?" Castiel squinted. "Dean, tell me more." This time, it were as if Castiel's fingers were over Dean's, instead of the other way round.

"There's not much to tell," Dean scoffed, looking away. "He's not a present dad, is a way to put it. He's never been. Not to me and Sammy, anyways."

"What does that mean?" Castiel pressed, something in him urging Dean to speak more.

"To Adam, he's the best dad ever, you know." Dean bit his lip, another time. "Always has been. And the kid's only a couple years younger than Sam, and like five years younger than me. I can't, for the sake of God, figure out what me and Sam do wrong, you know!?"

"You did nothing wrong, Dean."

"I mean," Dean exhaled, with a sigh. "I know, he's not proud of me. Heck, there's nothing to be proud of. But Sam's a great kid; why wouldn't a dad want to be a 'dad' to someone like him!? But, I mean, no, all he can do, is visit us every week - me, Sam, and Adam, we live in Lawrence, while he has to go around for his business - and ignore me, except for the occasional curses, fight with Sam, since the moment he enters, about his career choices, and then go around being a dad to that son of a bitch, Adam. It's like, where the hell did we go wrong?"

"Nowhere," Castiel breathed out. "Trust me, nowhere."

"Thank you, Cas." Dean spoke, after a moment of silence, almost weighed with fast-racing thoughts in both their minds. "I needed that."

"I needed that too, Dean." Castiel replied, earnestly.

A bitter smile crept up to Dean's lips. "Our issues are respectively different, yet somehow the same."

"That's a good way of putting it."

Another beat of silence.

Dean cleared his throat, forcing a smile on his face. "That was a lengthy question."

"That's a fake-smile."

"What, no!?" Dean drew back, the vacancy in his eyes clearer than ever before. Castiel wondered how he'd never noticed it before. It was heart-wrenching. "This is my usual smile, Cas."

"Yeah, and it's fake." Castiel repeated. "You needn't use that smile, in front of me, Dean."

"I don't get i-"

"Please, Dean." Castiel's hand was now, over Dean's. "You needn't smile like that. You can not smile, you don't owe me any smiles. You don't owe the World anything."

Something flickered across Dean's face. The smile drooped. "Okay.." He mumbled, almost confusedly.

There was silence, for a greater period now. A full minute.

Castiel tensed, wondering if he'd gone too far, in listening to his instincts, and speaking his mind.  
Worried, that he'd offended Dean, without meaning to, he spoke the first thing, that came to his mind. "You know something," Castiel started, startling Dean. "I never understood how orange correlates with black, in a way that's new."

Dean was silent for a moment. Then, slowly, a smile crept onto Dean's face, before it was the true Dean-Winchester smile, which Castiel loved to observe. "I know I'm repeating myself," Dean tilted his head to the right. "But, man, you're awesome!"

"I try," Castiel smirked.

Dean laughed out loud at this, and Castiel enjoyed that. 

It was a real laugh. Dean clutched the table, as he bended over in his chair, and at some point, he rested his head on the table, and as he shook with laughter, the table vibrated, and Castiel could feel Dean's laughter. But, the best part, was Dean's face. Castiel couldn't look into Dean's eyes, because they were squeezed shut, but the grin on his face spread from ear to ear, and displayed most of his teeth, and his nose scrunched up, and he almost reddened, and as he gasped for breath, the look of exhilaration on his face was noteworthy.

Castiel was more-than-a-little-proud-of-himself, that he'd gotten Dean to laugh like that.

And,

Castiel was more-than-a-little-unsure-of-himself, as thoughts of the 'dare' darted through his mind.

***

They left the restaurant, at about eight thirty, because the waiter asked them to either order something or leave, and they'd both had had enough - talking apparently needed a lot of energy, and both of them had respectively tried each other's orders, and then a few new items - to be able to have any more.

Castiel had remarked that the night was very beautiful, and Dean had taken this as a request to walk back to Paradise. They were walking back to Paradise, and were a good way away, and Dean's Impala sat in the parking lot of the McDonald's, waiting for Sam to drive away in it. 'He has a key, for emergencies,' Dean had informed Castiel, and Castiel had insisted that their situation did not count as an emergency. So, now, they were walking back, and talking like they'd known each other all their lives, with random questions and random answers, and on baseless topics, which Castiel could only enjoy himself talking about, with Dean.

Dean kicked a pebble, as they walked on the gravel. "I've got another. How do you judge a person?"

"Judge a person?"

"Oh, you know," Dean turned to Castiel. "Form a first impression of a person. Where do you begin to look?"

"Eyes," Castiel replied, earnestly, turning to face Dean. "They tell a lot about a person."

"On that note, you have beautiful eyes, Cas." Dean piped up.

Castiel netted his eyebrows. "Thank you."

"And a little but extremely-gorgeous birdie once told me, that I did too, so," Dean raised his eyebrows, pointedly, referring to the time where stupidly, Castiel had said so. "We're a couple with very beautiful eyes, Cas. Everyone's going to envy us and our eyes."

"Do you even listen to yourself, when you speak?" Castiel teased.

"No, there's like this roaring sound in my ears," Dean grinned broadly, unaffected. "What about you?"

Castiel shook his head. "How do you judge a person?"

"By their car." Dean replied, immediately. 

"What if they're walking?"

"Then, they're not very awesome people, Cas." Dean offered, smirking confidently.

Castiel smiled, in spite of himself. "Dean, we're walking right now."

"We're different." Dean replied, without missing a beat. "We're certifiedly awesome."

"How do I argue with a logic like that?" Castiel replied, sarcastically, making Dean smile broadly.

"I've got another," he kicked another pebble. This one went flying, and hit a pole with a clink. "What would you do, if you fell down in public?"

"That's stupid," Castiel folded his arms. "I'd get up, brush myself off, and keep walking."

"Aren't you a genius?"

"No, I aren't." 

"I meant, what would you do to look like less of a dork?" 

Castiel thought about something. "Walk carefully, and not fall?"

"No, you've already fallen." Dean argued, like a little kid. "What then?"

"I don't know." Castiel shrugged. "What would you do, Dean?" He obliged by asking Dean, who was writhing with the desire to answer.

"I'd yell at the people around me, to go save themselves, and forget about me." Dean grinned, largely. 

"You'd not really do that." Castiel countered.

"I'll do it tomorrow." Dean retorted. "In the middle of the Lunch hall."

"Okay, okay," Castiel sighed, knowing Dean would 'actually' do it. "But, one question."

"Yeah?"

"How does that make you any less of a dork, Dean?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Really smart."

"Thank you," Castiel smirked, again, as Dean rubbed the heel of his shoe in the dirt, making a circle. "Okay, I have a question."

"Yes, please." Dean did a little courtesy.

Castiel laughed, as he asked. "What matters the most in a friendship, to you?"

Dean furrowed his eyebrow. "Serious question."

"Yeah, we're past the stage of stupid questions." Castiel nodded, sagely, imitating Dean from before. 

"I'll say," Dean thought about it. "The ability to have a fun conversation at any point of time."

Castiel raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really?"

"Absolutely." Dean raised his eyebrows too. "A friend should not only be able to solve any problems, but also distract you from any dilemmas, and make you feel good, and special, and safe, and happy at any moment of time."

"True." Castiel agreed, casting his eyes downwards, at his moving feet.

"And, I didn't get that out of a Hallmark card." Dean added, with a chuckle.

"I never said you did." Castiel pointed out, and Dean shrugged defensively.

"What about you?" Dean asked. "What do you value the most in a friendship?"

"I agree with what you say," Castiel admitted. "But I'm going to say trust. Actually, faith. One should to be able to completely trust their friend, truth them with the truth, with their hearts, with their lives. They should have faith in the friend's judgement. That's when a friendship can be truly true."

"Now, that could be put on a Hallmark card, Cas." Dean complimented.

Castiel ignored that. "By the way, Dean," Dean turned his head, to face Castiel, as they talked. "By your and my answers, do you really think all your friends make the cut?"

Dean's expression turned evasive, immediately.

"Don't give me a lie." Castiel interrupted. 

"To be completely truthful," Dean sighed, after a moment of silence, where the sounds of their shoes - especially Dean's hunting boots - were the only sounds to be heard. "They don't. And you know what, Cas? I never thought that they did, ever. They don't need to, they're not that kind of friends, they're just..people I hangout with."

"Your friends."

"People I hangout with needn't be my friends." Dean corrected. "Some of them are. Benny, and Jo, and Sam, they're like the only friends, I have, going by our definitions of friends. The rest of them are just, people I know, people who I mo-"

"Because if you didn't, you'd be like me." Castiel cut him off, a slight frown in place. Not directed at Dean, but the bitter truth. "Because if you didn't 'hangout' with all those people, you'd not be popular. You'd be a weird ja-"

"Cas." Dean cut him off, again. "No. No. I do not- That's not the case."

"That is exactly the case." Castiel turned his head from Dean, his hands dug in his pockets.

"Okay, maybe it is, but Cas, I don't do it consciously. I don't need to be popular, not for my sake, it just happens, and I just-"

"You don't need to explain yourself to me."

"But, I want to."

"I don't need any explanation." Castiel repeated. "I know you're not an attention-craving moron, or a se-"

"How do you know that, if you didn't let me explain?" Dean challenged.

"Because of today." Castiel frowned. "So, I know you're not one of those. I just don't get why you carry the weight of that identity, nonetheless. Portray yourself like tha-"

"I've got used to it. I can't change."

"You don't want to."

"I do-"

"You needn't."

"Then, what is this about?"

"A very simple thing." Castiel faced Dean once more, unable to read Dean in spite of staring into Dean's eyes, clearly. "By your own definition of friendship, there are people around you who you call a 'friend', but who don't qualify. And, you are thus, lying to yourself."

There was a length of silence. Again.

"Are you saying all this, because you care for me?" Dean asked, suddenly. "You don't want me to get hurt."

"Of course, I don't." Castiel frowned, again. "We're friends, Dean."

Dean's smile was crooked. "By my definition, we definitely are." He almost dared Castiel with his next words, "Are we friends by yours?"

"Yes." Castiel replied, firmly. "Yes, we are."

Dean smiled suddenly. "Thank you, Cas. 'That pleases me, greatly.'" He added, imitating Castiel's dialogue from often before.

"I don't say it like that," Castiel objected.

"Oh, sorry, you say it like this." He cleared his throat, and then begun in a thick voice, lower than his own. "'That pleases me greatly'."

"Shut up." Castiel looked away, blushing slightly.

"Hey, turn your face towards me!" Dean complained. "I wanna look at you, as I talk to you."

"What?" Castiel smiled, almost startled by how Dean always spoke his mind.

"What?" Dean defended. "Sue a guy for giving in to his heart. You're really good-looking, especially when you're blushing."

"I'm not blushing," Castiel protested, blushing even more.

"Okay," Dean agreed, cheerfully, annoying Castiel even more.

"Don't say it like that!" Castiel complained. "I'm really not blushing."

"Okay." Dean said, in a high falsetto.

"That's not what I meant by not saying it like 'that'."

"Okay." Dean repeated, in the same voice he'd used before, which was 'supposed' to be Castiel's voice.

"You're ridiculous," Castiel gave up, kicking a pebble himself, as they walked, and turned to the Castiel's home street. They were five minutes away, now, from the gates of Paradise.

"Okay." Dean laughed. Castiel joined in, his eyes not leaving Dean.

***

"You know, your house is beautiful." Dean furrowed his brow, as they walked through the gates of Paradise, and onto the front porch.

"Well, Dean," Castiel replied, with a shrug; he was in a light mood. "I had absolutely nothing to do with the building of Paradise. All I do is reside in a room. But if you would still call it 'my house', and direct the compliment at me, I'll thank you on the behalf of everyone associated with the architecture of it."

"Is there something wrong with me if someone who sounds like a guy at some reception desk turns me on with a single dialogue?"

Castiel nodded his head. 

"Well, then I'm not turned on right now." Dean added an over exaggerated wink, making Castiel grin.

They reached the front porch, and stood facing each other, for a moment. Castiel fidgeted with the hems of his trenchcoat. 

"D'you want to sit down?" Castiel asked, thoughtlessly. Dean smirked slightly, and sat down on the topmost step, his legs poised gracefully on the lower steps. He patted the place next to him.

"D'you want to sit down?" Dean repeated, unnecessarily, as Castiel carefully sat down next to Dean. "So, what will you do after you go in?" He asked, suppressing a yawn.

"I don't know," Castiel thought about it. "I'll go up to my room, and go to sleep, I suppose?"

"So soon?" Dean teased. "You really don't get the privileges of being 18, do you?"

"Of course not. By 'going to sleep', I meant staying awake for no reason at all, and procrastinating, and whiling my time away till it's an appropriate time for an 18-year-old to sleep." Castiel answered airheadedly, a smile on his lips.

"What did I do to deserve such sarcasm?" Dean pursed his lips, annoyedly.

Castiel smiled wider. "You don't want a sarcastic answer? Don't ask stupid questions."

"Okay, Smarty-pants," Dean frowned, dramatically. "And I don't want a sarcastic remark about how your pants aren't smart, or possessor of my human quality as such."

Castiel grinned. "You're good. I actually was going to say something on those lines."

"See?" Dean cocked his head. "I know you so well."

Castiel shrugged. "The Question-Answer session paid off?"

"Sure did." Dean beamed, rubbing his hand over his own jeans. "It was awesome."

"Epically." Castiel added. "And, what about you? What will you do when you return home?"

Dean's expression hardened, at once. "Well, dad's home tonight, so, I don't know. Maybe I'll be able to ignore him altogether and go straight to my bedroom." Dean smiled a bit. "Then I'll blast classic rock records till Adam whines that he's not able to sleep."

"Adam's in middle school?" Castiel asked.

"He starts highschool next year." Dean answered. "Just imagine. Me, Sammy, and Adam, all in the same building."

"You're under the same roof in your house." Castiel corrected.

"Rarely." Dean replied, squinting slightly. "Actually, except for nights, I'm never under the same roof as him."

"So, what?" Castiel squinted too. "You and Sam don't return home?"

Dean snorted. "Sammy's not got a problem with him. His issue is solely with dad, and he's quite like an older brother to Adam-"

"He is an older brother to Adam."

"-and in saying that I don't return home, all I mean is that I don't go back to A2 Armour Boulevard." Dean looked at Castiel pointedly. "The Roadhouse is more home to me than that. There's a lot of places, I'd rather be."

"The Roadhouse..?" Castiel repeated. "Jo Harvelle's place?"

"You've been there?" Dean's face lit up.

"No, but I've heard of it." Castiel answered, looking away. "Ellen Harvelle is my dad's publisher."

"Then, we're closer than we realised." Dean patted Castiel's arm. "You are my favourite bar's owner's client's son. And I'm your dad's publisher's bar's regular." Dean grinned broadly.

"Yeah, so close." Castiel rolled his eyes. "And, how are you a regular at a bar?"

"Uh, I performed the customary regular-at-your-bar service by regularly going to their bar?"

"I mean, you're only 18." Castiel turned to face Dean fully. "I know people at our highschool drink, at parties and stuff. But you're not allowed inside a bar."

"It's not a bar." Dean shrugged. "I told you, it's like home. We've known Ellen and Jo, all our lives. They're family. And, don't worry, except for the occasional beer I sneak for myself when I'm covering Jo's shift, no one lets me drink any alcohol there."

Castiel nodded his head. "So, a bar is like your second home."

"Who mentioned 'second'?" Dean grinned.

"Where else?" Castiel asked, his eyes fixed on the very interesting specimen of a man, in front of him. "Which are your other homes?"

Dean smiled. "The football field, and the locker room? Benny's apartment? Or th-"

"It's late." Castiel stupidly cut Dean off, as his eyes fell on his watch which displayed ten thirty.

Dean awkwardly stopped mid sentence, and stood up after a moment of staring at Castiel's face.  
"I'll see you later. Tomorrow morni-"

"You could come in." Castiel cut him off, embarrassed, as he stood up himself. His eyes fell to the ground. "I didn't mean to interrupt you, and I really want to listen to you talk," Castiel regretted his words as soon as he heard himself; but the damage was done. "It's just late, and kinda cold, and you could co-"

"I could come in." Dean's face lit up again.

"Good." Castiel fidgeted up to the door, digging into his pocket to bring out his key. But the door wasn't locked, and opened as Castiel twisted the doorknob. He walked in, and Dean followed, with a large grin, as his eyes explored the inside of Paradise for a second time.

"I don't see dad anywhere," Castiel muttered. "I'll go check on him, and tell hi-"

"That I'm here?" Dean grinned. He brought out fingerguns. "'You tell 'em I'm comin', and hell's comin' with me!'" Dean added, in mock anger.

"What?" Castiel scrunched up his nose.

"What?" Dean defended. "'You look like someone just walked over your grave'? 'You gonna do something or just stand there and fuckin' bleed'? 'I'm your huckleberry'?" Dean tried, repeatedly.

Castiel shook his head. "I still don't know which movie you're talking about, Dean, and that only makes me realise that it's a really violent movie."

"Violent?" Dean blinked. "It's R-rated for violence!" Dean's eyes widened, as he got excited. "For y'all, it might be a teensy bit too aggressive, but for us Rambo fans, it's only ordinary swearing, and fighting. That happens in ranches, dude."

Castiel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Dean, you sound like a cowboy."

"Cowboys are awesome." Dean crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm proud that I sound like one."

"Great." Castiel answered, sarcastically, as he begun to look into each room on the ground floor to no avail. "Dad must've gone off to his room. Guess we won't disturb him, then."

"'Kay." Dean kicked his heel, and looked at Castiel, as if for instructions.

"Sit." Castiel gestured to the living room sofa. "You want water?"

"I'd like some Pepsi." Dean shrugged.

"I'll check." Castiel walked off to the kitchen, unaware of the fact that Dean was following him. He realised so, when he felt Dean directly behind him, as he looked for glasses to pour the drinks in. "What, Dean?"

"You're pretty from the behind too." Dean answered, with a large mischievous grin.

Castiel shook his head, almost disapprovingly. "Are you sure you're not drunk, literally, all of the time?"

"I'm sure." Dean replied, in a dramatically drunken slur, shaking his head from side to side. Then, he followed Castiel obediently back to the living room, after taking his glass, and taking a sip.

"So, what are we going to do?" Castiel asked, finishing off his drink in a single breath. "You were saying something about your hom-"

"Screw it, Cas," Dean grinned broadly. "You've never seen a movie, which I'm gonna use references of, all the time. And you need to know what I'm talking about, because our relationship's based on skilful communication." Dean added, preachily. "So, we're gonna watch Tombstone."

Castiel eyed him carefully, his brain doing the calculations; that the movie must at least be 2 hours long, which meant Dean wanted to spend until midnight with Castiel. "We are?"

"Sure, we are." Dean grinned. "I'll wait here, you go get the CD."

"Why do you think I'd have the CD to a movie I haven't even heard of?" 

"Maybe your dad does?" 

"Does Tombstone have the Supernatural in it?"

"Really?" Dean scrunched his nose. "Horror's his genre?"

"Paranormal fantasy." Castiel corrected, with a smug grin.

"Same thing." Dean shrugged. "What about Gabriel?"

"Do you even know my brother?" Castiel smiled, his dimples coming into place.

"Oh, right." Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I don't think I have it in Baby, at the moment. I lent mine to Ashley-"

"You carry around Tombstone in the Impala?" Castiel asked, incredulously.

"Damn straight, I do." Dean winked. "And, she's Baby to you."

Castiel suppressed a chuckle. "So, now, do we watch some other movie which I do have a CD of?"

"I don't wanna watch the Bee Movie, or The Breakfast Club." Dean frowned, seriously. "Oh, wait, I just had a revelation." His face lit up instantly.

"A revelation means a divine or Supernatural disclosure to humans or about human existence." Castiel pointed out.

"Okay, Wikipedia." Dean rolled his eyes. "What I meant was that, I just realised-"

"A realisation, then."

"-that we do not live in the 2004." Dean completed.

Castiel raised an eyebrow, amusedly. "Yes, Dean. We live in 2018."

"So, we can just watch it on YouTube!" Dean beamed, pleased at himself. 

Castiel checked the fact; YouTube started in February, 2005. Dean sure had a great memory. "Tombstone is available on YouTube?"

"Yeah, the rest of the World hasn't been living under a rock." Dean winked. 

"For your information, my time under the rock was quite pleasurable." Castiel replied, with a clever smile.

"Ignorance is bliss." Dean reciprocated, with a smug look.

"Good one." Castiel grinned. "I'll go get my laptop."

"We'll watch it here..?" Dean asked, as Castiel begun climbing the stairs.

"I'm afraid there's no projector room in Paradise."

"We could just watch it in your room." Dean fixed his gaze on Castiel, and Castiel momentarily drew back. "I mean, if you want to."

"W-we could." 

Dean immediately was at Castiel's heel. "Lead the way."

"U-uh.." Castiel, in a somewhat lost manner, began lurking up the stairs, as his brain raced. First, inviting Dean into his house, and now his bedroom? And they were going to spend until midnight together? Castiel couldn't help it as his mind wandered.

"...still got it in me." Dean was saying.

"What?" Castiel asked, suddenly, returning to reality.

"I was just saying, that although this date has succeeded in taking our relationship to a newer, more mature level, and you've become much more open and decidedly much more sarcastic, I was worried I'll not be able to fluster you, and get you blushing as you're blushing at this moment. But, now I'm assured that I still got it in me." Dean said, with a confident smirk, the likes of which seemed to make Castiel's breathing quicken, each time.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Castiel muttered, as they reached his room, and he opened the door.

"The architects sure did a fantastic job decorating your room." Dean teased, as he sat down on Castiel's King-size-bed, and made himself comfortable immediately, by surrounding himself with pillows. Castiel brought out his laptop, and put it on his bed, and seated himself on the other side of the bed.

"That was me." Castiel notified, in a small voice, and he entered his password - 'CNovak99' - while Dean pretended to cover his eyes, with both of his hands. "Over to you." He pushed the laptop across the bed to Dean, so immediately pressed a few buttons and moved the cursor around a bit, before leaving the laptop, with it's screen tilted backwards at an obtuse angle, so that the both of them could see. The ad preceding the video begun to play.

"I told you!" Dean smiled, satisfiedly. "Now, get prepared to see a movie that'll blow your minds!"

"Too literal." Castiel muttered, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Don't worry, I'm here to protect you." Dean returned, with just as much grace, making Castiel scoff.

The credits begun to roll, as a drumbeat begun to play.

Dean hit pause suddenly, and turned to Castiel. "Two things." He raised two of his fingers. "Firstly, disclaimer." He cleared his throat, and continued in what would've been a monotonous robotic voice, were it not accompanied by the occasional snort of laughter. "All the characters in the movie are perfectly unfictitious, and I don't take responsibility for any kind of influence the contents of the movie might have on the impressionable audience."

"Impressionable audience?" Castiel frowned, deeply. 

Dean smirked, in response, making Castiel want to glare at him, ever more.

"The only 'influence' the contents of his 'nonfictional' movie are going to have on 'me', is possibly make me chuckle at the childish and stereotyped portrayal of the 'Wild West'." Castiel snapped back.

"Too many inverted commas, dude." Dean grinned, taking pleasure at Castiel's indignance. "'Too' 'many'." He added, laughing.

"Shut up, and get it started with." He muttered. "Secondly?"

"Secondly," Dean resumed. "The laptop has a fairly small screen, unlike a television set, or a theatre screen. And hence, you are required to be closer to the screen, to be able to watch the movie, properly."

"Okay." Castiel shifted towards the laptop, both his feet on his bed now. Dean didn't spare a moment, as he pushed the laptop towards Castiel, and launched himself, almost in the centre of the bed.

"I have to be able to watch the movie properly too, you know." He reasoned, with a mischievous look.

Castiel blushed slightly, hating the fact that Dean was close enough - their shoulders were pushed against each other - to see him blushing. He crossed his legs, and leaned back against the wall, even as Dean sprawled his feet ahead, and crouched towards the laptop, his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his palm. Castiel felt a tinge of desire to pull Dean back by his collar, because it was unhealthy for his vision to look at the screen from so close, but resisted.

"Are you ready?"

"Dean, play it before I change my mind."

"Okay, okay," Dean grinned, as he leaned back again, his left shoulder pressed against Castiel's right, and his head slightly tilted to his left - towards Castiel. "Here we go."

***

Two hours in - with fourteen minutes remaining - Castiel yawned.

Dean turned his head slightly - their heads were inches apart, and on turning, they were a feather's breadth away. He had an eyebrow raised. Castiel coaxed a smile onto his face, and turned away, towards the screen, where the end was nearing.

Dean truly loved the movie. He'd repeated all of the important dialogues with the characters who said it, and before every exciting scene, he nudged Castiel to pay attention, because "what comes next, is gonna blow you away", in his own words. Castiel had always obliged, and though he wouldn't say that this was his new favourite movie, he liked it nonetheless. Moreover, he liked Dean's expressions, all the time. When there was shooting, his eyebrows would be arched, and eyes widened, with his mouth agape, and when there was a serious moment, he would be crouching forward, with furrowed eyebrows, and a slight scowl to show he was enthralled. It was amazing.

'Wyatt Earp' was saying something to 'Doc Holliday', but all Castiel could focus on, was Dean's side-profile, with his lips pulled up in a huge anticipating smile, and his eyes squinted in excitement, and the occasional, taut swallowing for no reason.

"You like it?" Dean had his eyes glued to the small screen.

"I never thought I would, but maybe I do. I really do." Castiel's eyes were fixed on Dean, as he spoke, as if in a trace.

Dean begun to straighten, but paused, with an astonished look on his face. "Dramatic much- You weren't talking about the movie!" He smiled, with a cocky look in his eyes. "You were talking about me."

Castiel immediately recoiled. "Wh-what? No! No..of course not!" In his defense, he crouched forward, like Dean was doing, and focussed all his attention on the screen.

"You do." Dean almost sang. "Don't deny it, because I know it's true!" He almost chuckled. "Hey, that rhymed. I'm awesome."

Castiel rolled his eyes, still not daring to turn back to Dean. "What, have you got eyes in the side of your head!?" He retorted.

"Absolutely." Dean replied, instantly.

"Well, then, you're probably an Arthropod." Castiel muttered, not really thinking about it. He was blushing too hard, already. "Maybe you also have wings, and antenna-"

"You're blabbering." Dean pointed out, cutting him off. "Like you do, when you lie!"

"I'm not!" Castiel protested. "And I don't!"

"What, lie?"

"No, blabber!"

"So, you agree that you're lying?"

"No!" 

"So, you agree that yo-"

"No. And shut up." Not really much of a MasterCard. Castiel raised his right hand, still with his eyes on the screen, and not towards Dean. "I'm watching a movie. Let me see the end." He added, awkwardly, as Dean shut up completely.

A moment passed, where only Val Kilmer's voice could be heard.

"You know, you could just say it to my face." Dean spoke, softly, and Castiel breathed tentatively. "I say it to you, all the time."

Castiel blinked. "You don't." He spoke, unthinkingly.

"Well, between those compliments for your pretty blue eyes, and your pretty ass, I do slip in a few confessions." Dean reasoned.

Castiel's breathed slowed down, though his heart rate was probably off the charts. "You're saying...?"

"I like you?" Dean completed. "Yes. I do. I like you."

Castiel looked up slowly, an incomprehensible look on his face - incomprehensible, both to Castiel, and to Dean - and blinked, as an inattentive and unrestrained smile came on his lips. He went even controlling his own actions. Dean mirrored his smile, and began leaning in, his eyes fixed on Castiel's lips.

And then, suddenly, Castiel raised his head, and then, that their lips were inches apart. Even though they were sitting next to each other, Dean was minutely taller, so he had to crane his neck slightly. Castiel breathed softly, while Dean's was more of a nervous inhalation - so, he interpreted later, when his brain begun to function again- as if he were struggling with himself. Clearly, both of them had the same thought in their minds.

In the end, it was both of them who closed the distance. Unable to stand the desire any longer, Dean leaned downwards, and at the exact same moment, Castiel let go of the rigidness with which he'd tried to suppress his wishes to kiss him - Kiss Dean Winchester - and it wasn't as if their lips just touched. More like they crashed against each other with an unanticipated force, and had got completely absorbed in the wondrous feeling of it.

Dean shifted his head slightly to the left, his left hand tightening around Castiel's fingers, without his knowing of it, his lips still on his. Castiel replied, by unconsciously turning halfway in his position, and placing his lips on Dean's, somewhat more comfortably. Somewhere in the midst of it, both of it had closed their eyes, in the pure bliss of it.

Before pulling back, he'd pushed in for a single moment, immediately making Castiel part his lips, then he'd pulled apart the next moment. Castiel's eyes flickered open. A second later, Dean had opened his eyes, slowly, and his face was one of someone who wanted to savor every moment of it.

He smiled his effortlessly charming smile at him, completely disarming Castiel of any nervousness which might've prevailed. His eyes travelled back to Castiel's eyes, although Castiel's blue eyes wandered all over the place, before they could find solace in Dean's gorgeous green ones.

The mere ecstasy of it, made a shudder run through Castiel, and it showed, as he sprung back to reality, from the trance-like state. Dean had a mellow smile dangling from his lips. Castiel smiled back, unable to not do so, because Dean, in that moment, was perfect. Perfect.

"As I was saying," Dean was the one who broke the silence, after the lingering moment had passed. "I do like you."

Castiel's mouth half-opened, and he stared at Dean for a precise second, unblinkingly. He swallowed, a moment later, and took in a deep breath.

Dean's eyes softened into a warm smile. "That kiss was wonderful."

Castiel was still unable to reply. How had he never noticed just how breathlessly beautiful Dean's eyes were? And his lips, and his smile, and his voice, and him. Or had he, and not paid attention to it?

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, and bit his bottom lip, shyly. "So," he swallowed hard. "May I?"

A flicker of a smile went through Castiel, as the meaning of Dean's words dawned on him that very second. He moved his head downwards, in a partial nod, but was just as quick as Dean, later. As Dean put a hand on Castiel's neck, Castiel grabbed him by his collar, and brought his lips against his again. This time, slightly more boldly, though still in an oblivious state, Castiel kissed back with vigour, and their hands moved in synchrony, as Dean let his wander up Castiel's hair, and Castiel let his go around Dean's neck, in a hug.

Before they knew it, they were so into it, that there was no pulling back. Castiel had stopped even trying to think, any longer. They pulled apart, after seconds, to catch their breath, and then they'd be at each other again. Dean kissed him, passionately, not soft as their first time, and almost expertly. Of course, he was an expert. But Castiel wasn't inexperienced either; and they just fit. Like it was meant to be.

"Oh, oh, my eyes!" Came a dramatic falsetto, making Castiel leap away from Dean, and the both of them stare at the door. "My eyes!" Gabriel added, with an enormous smile on his face, and an exaggerated look in his eyes.

Castiel abruptly stumbled down the bed, straightening out his clothes. Dean merely cleared his throat, as he looked at Castiel, and back at Gabriel.

"Well, can't a man enter a room to watch a movie with his brother and his friend, without coming across scenes that ruin his life forever!?" Gabriel laughed out loud, although he tried hard to keep a straight face.

"Stop being a jackass," Dean told Gabriel, rolling his eyes, as he stood up too. "And leave us alone."

"Leave you alone to do some more love-making?" Gabriel chuckled, singing out the last words.

"We weren't having sex." Castiel growled, his brain back on track - well, not completely. "And Dean is right, leave us alone."

"I'm going, I'm going!" Gabriel replied, in a singsong voice typical of him. "Lots of Winchester-Novak kisses flying around in the air today. One can't be sure of when one walks in on one." He added, in an extremely loud stage-whisper, before he closed the door.

Dean looked at Castiel, with a puzzled look on his face. "Which other Winchester-Novaks are kissing? What could he mean by that?"

"He hardly ever means anything, you know." Castiel shrugged, struggling to keep his eyes away from Dean's lips, when he talked. He'd..had a taste of the blood. Dean replied, with a smirk, which made Castiel feel as though he could read right into him. 

And it was terrifying and terrific at the same time.

But, Castiel knew one thing for sure, and the 'dare' didn't even cross his mind.

He liked Dean Winchester. A lot. More than he should, and it was not just a stupid crush. It was more. Because Castiel had never known it before, but he strongly felt, as though this was falling in love.

Castiel Novak was falling in love with Dean Winchester.

And maybe, Dean Winchester was, too.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, late update! If you liked it, please leave a comment. And have a good day, everyone.


	5. "I'm way more adorable than Cumberbatch. I've got fuller cheeks too."

You know what they say; time flies when you think you're falling in love with Dean Winchester, the adorable and irresistibly handsome football captain who is obsessed with his car and makes a mean pie if you trick him into doing so, and the baddest-reputation-holding guy of your class is trying to make you fall in love with him, on a dare.

Nobody says that, do they?

Well, anyhow, time flew. From an unbelievable first date, which affected Castiel's impression of Dean more than a little bit, they'd gone out several times.

For the second date, Dean took Castiel to the famed Roadhouse. They had their usual pointless banter which always made the both of them smile, and pinches of insightful conversations all mixed up to form a heck of a time.

For the third, Castiel volunteered to plan the date, and ended up taking Dean to his favourite beach restaurant, and after a meal of PB&Js and Pies, they ended up spending most of the night, sitting on the beach, barefoot, digging their toes in the sand, and just talking. Castiel remembered reaching home in the early hours of dawn - they'd left the beach at midnight after the Coast Guard told them off for the fourth time, but spent a little extra time in the solitude of the Impala - and Gabriel pretending to be the overprotective dad which Charles never was,.

Things just escalated from there. Dean Winchester seemed lesser and lesser mysterious as they spent hours just talking to each other, but the new charisma was more based on familiarity, his natural flair of words and smiles, and the true Dean Winchester, which hardly anyone knew. Castiel was one who did.

And from the first kiss shared in Castiel's bedroom, things had definitely escalated. Each morning when Castiel took his place in the front seat of the Impala, there was the peck on the lips; each Lunch, be it Dean's table, Castiel's able or some other one where they sat, Dean would attempt to kiss him and Castiel would object, before they were on full frontal display; each afternoon after school, Dean pushed Castiel up against his secluded locker - he was Dean Winchester; of course, he had the corner locker where people seldom drifted - and had his way with Castiel's upturned lips. 

It looked, and was, a very happy time. 

And as for Castiel, he hardly ever thought back about the dare. It was just a fleeting memory from time to time, but he always pushed it away; or Dean pushed it away, with his overwhelming words or breathtaking smiles. And Castiel somehow knew whenever Dean was lying. If he lied about an affair with Anna in the past embarrassedly, Castiel understood; or when he denied a crush on Daphne from Scooby-Doo, Castiel saw right through it. He was, therefore, sure that all of the possessive gestures, the feeling-filled 'Cas's, and the stolen kisses in everyone's absence but Led Zeppelin's, were not lies. He didn't even stop to think what would happen, if they were. They...just couldn't be. 

He didn't want them to be. He liked Dean Winchester. A lot. And he really hoped Dean wasn't kidding when he claimed that he did too.

***

"...and so I'm not talking to that giant moose." Dean ended, his eyebrows furrowed and a frown on his lips, and Castiel smiled bemusedly.

"Dean, it's not that big a deal..." He tried to coax, but was cut off by a glaring Dean.

"Not that big a deal!?" Dean repeated in a high falsetto, which could never have been Castiel, since his voice was deeper than Dean, himself. Castiel desisted from pointing that out, although the expression on Dean's face would've been worth it. "He called my driving reckless, Cas! My driving! The one thing I'm good at!" Castiel decided to skip the part where he corrected him and reminded him that he was good at a lot of other things, like football, cooking, playing the guitar, and so on. "And he didn't just call me reckless! He called my driving reckless! That includes me and Baby! He called Baby reckless!" Dean looked almost hurt.

Castiel sighed. "He didn't mean to call the Impala anything. He just meant to insult your driving skills."

"You really think so?" Dean pursed his lips, affording a small smile, almost like a kid who'd been told that Santa was, in fact, not a lie.

Castiel nodded. "Of course! Sam loves Baby almost as much as you do." Castiel stifled his urge to grin at Dean's boyish reaction to his ridiculous explanation.

"Nobody loves Baby as much as I do, but I guess you're right." Dean appeared to be genuinely contemplating it. "But he did still call my driving reckless, and I'm not gonna forget and forgive."

"I'm sure he apologised..?" 

"Only twice." Dean grinned, his dimples popping up. "I need at least a ten 'sorries' and a few-."

"I'd forgotten you Winchesters were sorry-hoarders and sorry-misers." Castiel grinned.

"One of the first things you ever said to me, I remember." Dean smiled, his annoyance subsided. "Anyways, how is the new Wayward Sisters doing?"

"Great." Castiel smiled. "Sales are rising as days pass, and dad's been doing lots of book-signings and conventions."

"You know, that series would be perfect for LARPing." Dean shrugged.

"Charlie said literally the same thing yesterday." Castiel grinned back. "You guys are like two peas in a pod."

"You know what they say," Dean winked. "Great minds think alike."

"More like dorks think alike." Castiel chuckled, as Dean frowned.

"What about Gabriel?" Dean asked suddenly. Ever since their first date, when Castiel had gotten all emotional and said that stuff about his family, Dean had been very empathic about anything concerning it. And since Gabriel was recently contemplating moving back into Paradise, he was loudly supportive of it; for Castiel's sake. It was kinda sweet. "Any eligible renters yet?" He grinned.

"No, not yet." Castiel smiled. "But he'll find someone. It's a freaking large apartment in the best part of the city and furnished by Gabriel to his extravagant tastes."

"True." Dean shrugged. "Maybe I can move in." He offered. "Then, along with being my boss' client's son, you could also be my landlord's brother." He grinned stupidly.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah! You can move in with me. I got an extra side of the bed." Dean winked.

"Shut up." Castiel frowned back, as Dean laughed at Castiel's deep frown as he swerved into his usual parking spot, reserved for Dean Winchester's Impala. On one side of it was parked Benny's motorcycle, and the other, where usually Jo's Toyota stood, was empty.

"Jo's late today." Dean pursed his lips, as the both of them got out of the car, slinging their bags on their shoulders. "That's unlike her."

"Yeah, she's the only punctual one of your group." Castiel agreed, as Dean rolled his eyes at the jibe. "And you, as usual, are late. I wonder why she got late too."

"Your dad's doing." Dean grinned. "He wrote such a great book, that Harvelle Publications got a ton of new business and Ellen had lots of work. Jo probably skipped school to help her with something."

"Aren't you being Sherlock Holmes-y today?"

"I'm way more adorable than Cumberbatch." Dean grinned. "I've got fuller cheeks too." He added, chuckling.

"It's called a jawline." Castiel laughed. "Natural contour."

"I have a jawline, and natural contour." Dean appeared offended almost, and Castiel almost laughed. "Man, as we get closer and closer, you're beginning to appreciate my devastatingly amazing looks lesser and lesser." Dean squinted his eyes intelligently, as the two of them marched down the hallway towards Castiel's locker.

"Makes you wanna rethink some things?" Castiel challenged, with a playful laugh, as they reached his locker, and Castiel opened it with his key in a flourish and begun sorting out books into his bag and vice versa. 

"None at all." Dean fixed his gaze on Castiel daringly. "As we get closer and closer, you're getting better and better with your sarcasm, and finding me more and more lovable." He imitated his tone from before.

"What makes you think so?"

"The fact that officially forty four days after our first day," Dean licked his lips, as he wrapped his hand around Castiel's wrist, and held him against the lockers, pressing up against him with all of himself. "I can now do this without you complaining about it to the teachers." He leaned in, his eyes teasing Castiel's.

Castiel gulped, unmoving because he couldn't, his face illogically close to Dean's. He felt a shudder run through him. "I never complained to any teacher..." He begun stupidly, knowing Dean had only been joking, but still wanting to say something for the sake of it.

"Yeah, because I'm so good at it; I left you no reasons to complain." Dean closed the gap between their lips softly, his arm leaving Castiel's wrist, and wrapping around his waist instead, as he ducked his head for Castiel to reach him more comfortably. Castiel responded thoughtlessly, pressing into the kiss eagerly, his eyelids fluttering shut, as his hand moved up Dean's arm, till it was on Dean's bicep, his other hand clutching onto Dean's AC/DC T-shirt. 

Dean was an unbelievably good kisser; it never felt as if one was ever formulating the kiss, and one was letting it happen, they were both equal contenders, always hungry for more after pulling away after one, yet always tender and slow. Dean's kisses made Castiel weak in the knees, and he hoped he wasn't the only one who felt that way; anyways, Dean was always keen on kissing him. Castiel loved kissing Dean Winchester. It was an ethereal feeling, overwhelming excitement, and comfort, and none of the tension which surrounded them before the kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, Castiel pulling away for breath, and Dean taking a step backwards, Dean had an admiring smile on his face. "You're somethin-" His phone rang, interrupting him. He raised it to check the caller dismissively, but his eyes widened when he saw the name on the screen. "U-uh, I need to take this." He hurriedly muttered, pulling away completely, leaving Castiel feeling almost alone. "Be a minute." He added in a rush, before walking away to a corner, and picking up the phone.

Castiel studied Dean for a moment, wondering who the call could've been from, from Dean's agitated expression, and shuffling feet. Then, not wanting to violate his privacy, he returned to his locker, trying his best to not mind the several people who were watching him - the guy who just kissed Dean Winchester again. 

When Castiel had finished packing his bag, he slung it on his shoulder again, and turned to Dean, to see if he was done with the phone call. Dean looked like he was finishing up, and Castiel waited patiently, reminiscing on the kiss that happened a few minutes ago, which had Castiel's insides feel like flowing honey and rampaging butterflies.

Dean walked back to Castiel a second later, an inscrutable expression on his face, and a shocked look in his eyes. 

"Hi," Castiel cautiously touched Dean's arm. "What was that about?"

"It was..Ellen." Dean muttered, almost haphazardly. "About Jo."

"What's wrong!?" Castiel immediately frowned, his eyes widening. "Is she okay!?"

Dean shook his head, taking short breaths, and visibly tensing with each passing moment. He looked distracted, like his mind was processing a hundred different things at once. "Turns out to be my dad's doing." He cleared his throat nervously.

"W-what happened?" Castiel frowned deeper. "Did she meet with an accide-"

"No." Dean cut him off. "She's fine..she's not hurt. Dad just..." His voice trailed off. "Fuck." He murmured under his breath, incapable of articulating himself. Castiel felt Dean stiffen, as he continued to curse under his breath. "Fuck. I gotta go. Cas, I gotta go. I gotta go. F-fuck."

"Dean, calm down!" Castiel rushed. "Where are you going?"

"The Bunker.." Dean murmured. "Sam, I'll take Sam with me." He spoke suddenly, as if it suddenly struck him. "He'd wanna know...I'll take Sam too." Dean continued to blabber.

"S-sam will be in the..." Castiel begun, bewildered himself. "In the.."

"Gym room." Dean completed. "I'll get him. I-I'll catch you later, Cas."

"Hey, are you okay?" He interrupted.

"Yeah, I'm good." Dean hesitated. "I can drive back. It's cool."

Castiel bit his lip worriedly. "Dean, should I come?"

"No." Dean hurriedly shook his head. "It's fine." He forced a smile on his face. "I'm good. I'm fine, okay? I'll just get Sam, and I'll see you later, and - fuck, I just need to g-go."

"I'll tell Coach you had an emergency." Castiel tried, eager to be of some help to Dean in this shockingly moved condition. What could have happened to make him like this!? Was Jo okay!?

"Emergency, yeah." Dean muttered, as he almost sprinted off in the direction of the game room. 

Castiel kept staring behind him till he disappeared from the hallway. Then, his mind in turmoil and utter confusion, he begun trudging along to Mathematics. 

Was Jo okay? Was Dean going to be okay? 

Should he have insisted on accompanying Dean? 

Is that what someone who liked him should've done?

He just hoped Dean would return soon, and tell him what happened, and actually be fine. School without him would be boring after their usual routine, and he'd constantly be worried about Jo and Dean. He just wanted Dean to be fine. 

He took his place on the second bench. "Good Morning, Ms. Tran..."

***

The rest of Castiel's day somehow seemed stretched out. Every period seemed like an hour longer than it should be, and it's not even supposed to be an hour. Castiel shuffled along corridors from one class to another, unable to focus on anything...but Dean Winchester. 

When Lunch came, and indicated end of half of the day, Castiel could've skipped it altogether. Instead, he sat with Charlie and Garth, and Bela and Benny joined in. They were all talking about something - probably Dean - but Castiel still couldn't concentrate. His mind kept drifting all around the place. Well, that was probably a lie. It just kept going to Dean Winchester's whereabouts.

Did Castiel miss Dean?

That sounded ridiculous. Dean hadn't even been gone for a day; how could Castiel miss him? He consoled himself that that wasn't the reason, he was just worried about him. That sounded better. More platonic, he felt. Yes, he was worried about Dean Winchester. Or maybe, he was worried about Jo. That seemed more appropriate. Dean had sounded all worried about her - which meant she was the one he was worrying about. Yes, Castiel was just worried about Jo.

And perhaps a very reasonable amount, about Dean Winchester.

He had sounded pretty hurt. And he'd been cursing a lot, and Castiel had never seen Dean look that dazed - even when they had a serious exchange, Dean seldom got vulnerable, but he always seemed in control of his nerves. Even when he got drunk - like the first time they'd talked - he'd been composed, and steady. But somehow, Dean just seemed struck. 

Castiel hoped he was okay.

That did not sound all that ridiculous. He was allowed to think that, his mind comforted. Dean not returning to school even at Lunch, after promising that he'd be back 'soon' brought a vaguely uncomfortable feeling in Castiel's chest, but it was just worry regarding his well-being. Plus, Sam had been with him. That had to mean something, right? Sam was reliable, and very mature for his age. Sam would make sure that Dean was okay. So, Castiel needn't worry, right? Except his mind didn't listen completely, and kept forming up hundreds of possibilities and situations - and regretting the decision to not accompany Dean. He could've insisted; Dean never denied him outright on anything. It would've been better than to worry about Dean so much, from miles away.

Castiel didn't even know where he lived - they'd somehow never made it to the famed 'Bunker' and Castiel never pressed on it - or he could've considered showing up to make sure Dean got home safe. Castiel instantly shushed himself, knowing it sounded ridiculous again. Dean was 18 and a great driver - though Sam's 'reckless' comment had been partially correct; Dean was a great driver, not necessarily safe. Castiel swore at himself, as his mind begun pondering on different topics altogether. What if Dean made it home safely, but what greeted him was worse than he could take - it was Jo after all, and Dean loved her as a friend, and kind of like a little sister, he'd once confided in Castiel, talking about the time when Gordon had badgered him about her, and if he would ask her out to prom. And plus, it was his dad. Castiel didn't know too many details, but that was a topic he was sensitive about. Castiel kind of had an absent father, but Dean had it so much worse. 

Castiel rested his chin in his hand, his food untouched.

"...and he's not even listening to us." A voice, and a hand on his thigh interrupted him. 

Castiel, almost absentmindedly, looked in the direction of the voice; it was Charlie. She had a concerned expression on her face. Castiel immediately tried to work up a smile, but he guessed he failed, because her frown deepened dramatically.

"Castiel, you okay?" Benny's loud voice brought him completely out of his deep reverie.

The obligatory smile was in place now. Castiel breathed out, deeply. "Yeah, Benny, I'm fine." He shrugged his shoulders. "Why would you ask?"

"You've kinda been phased out." Bela answered, her eyebrows high up. "All Lunch. And, in the creepy way."

"I'm sorry.." Castiel began immediately. "I will phase in now." He stressed to broaden the smile. "What were you guys talking about?"

Charlie scrunched up her nose. "Dean. And you."

"Dean and me?" Castiel repeated, uncertainly. "I thought you guys would be worried about Jo."

"Both," Garth joined in, his manner vastly subdued for his usual countenance. "We haven't heard from Jo, but we've heard of her. She's good. And we have heard from Dean."

Castiel started, instantly. "What? Did he call you?"

"No, Sam called me." Benny frowned. "Told me to check in with Bobby, regarding Dean. Dean asked for it, he said."

Castiel felt more hurt than he showed; he'd offered to 'check in with Bobby, regarding him', and Dean had repeated the request to Benny, a second time. Did Dean think Castiel couldn't do a single damn thing for him? 

"He's fine." Benny added, a small smile showing up on his face. "I mean, Dean. Sam told me some pretty bad shit had come down, that Jo was completely okay, but he was mad at his dad. Dean was apparently off the rocket, too. You could hear the curses the boy was holding in. I suspect Mr. Winchester was nearby. That's...never a good omen."

Castiel's frown deepened, his momentary anger forgotten. "Did he.." Castiel caught himself in the middle of an exceedingly stupid question. "Did you talk to Dean?"

"No." Benny admitted. "Sam sounded like Dean wouldn't wanna talk. You know..." Benny shrugged, uncomfortably.

Castiel knew. "What happened to Jo?"

"No details available yet." Benny pursed his lips. "None of us heard from her, or even Ellen."

Jo's mother, Castiel remembered. Dean's boss, and Castiel's dad's publisher. A hint of a smile threatened to show at the memory of the joke, but it was far from visible yet. 

"So, they reached home safely." Charlie rejoined, affording a little smile. Castiel resignedly smiled back. "I knew you were sorta worried about that."

"You were worried about a road thing?" Benny cut in, with a reassuring grin. "Brother, Dean's a great driver. Plus, he'd never crash into anything with Sam next to him - you got to know that. I'd say, what I'm worried about is how he'll react. To Jo's situation, and his dad, and everything."

Castiel's heart weighed down in his chest. "He should've talked about it to one of us. Or anyone, you know. We could've helped." He spoke, in a little voice, a moment later.

Bela half-smiled. "You mean, he should've called you up as soon as he came to know about the entire situation, and confided his crises and troubles to you, and invited you over to be the knight in shining armour?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Bela; she'd hit too close to home. 

Charlie swatted at her, irritably. "Shut up, Talbot. You're making things worse around here."

"Okay, Ladies and Gentlemen, knights of the round table, and Winchester's hypothetical knight in shining armour," Bela stood up, with a roll of her eyes. "I've got to leave. Excuse me." She picked up her tray, and muttered in a soft voice before strutting away. "Call me if any of you receives a call from either of them."

She cares too, Castiel bit his lip. She just does a far better job of hiding it.

"Castiel, you okay?" Benny repeated.

Castiel repeated the forced smile. "Yeah, Benny, I'm fine."

"Don't worry about Dean, okay?" Benny frowned sympathetically, some of his joviality returning. "He's gone through stuff like this, before." Castiel suspected, Benny knew a deal more than he did. "He'll sort out stuff, and be fine. Guy's got a temper, but it's his dad. They have fights, but Dean knows it's his dad. Worst comes to worst, his dad won't visit for another year." Benny cracked a smile.

"You want him back, don't you?" Charlie suddenly spoke, her voice empathic. Castiel looked at her cautiously. "You're not just worried about him, you also want him back here. It's weird for all of us to let an hour go by without his stupid laughter and pathetic jokes. And he's your..well..what are you guys calling yourselves this week? Boyfriends?" She tried a smile.

Castiel scowled. Charlie was - insufferably - right. He didn't just miss Dean's stupid laughter and pathetic jokes; he missed his adorable smile, and witty sarcasm, or charming flirtations and compliments, and just him by his side - offering to do stuff like an overly polite doorman, asking Castiel if he could sit with him with a meaningful wink, and just those lingering touches, and the mind blowing kisses, and just calling him Cas. 

It had not even been a day, and Castiel missed Dean Winchester so bad, that he couldn't concentrate. It was not how he'd expected himself to be, ever, but it turned out that was the kind of sissy he was - who couldn't spend a full day without his boyfriend fretting over him. He hated it; but it was true.

Castiel also realised he'd spaced out again. "I guess, it feels a little bit strange not having his stupid face around." He stated blandly; understatement of the millennia.

"You mean, his gorgeous face, right about here!?" Charlie demonstrated by pressing her palm flatly against Castiel's right cheek. Castiel swatted away her hand from his face, wordlessly. 

"You could always drop him a call, you know." Garth remarked casually. Castiel perked up at this; that seemed like such a better alternative than going over to his 'Bunker' or doing nothing about all the things he had on his mind. 

"Yeah, he might pick up, seeing it's you." Benny grinned back.

Castiel attempted to look as if he wanted to protest.

"You'd make a bad actor. Your face gives everything away," Charlie laughed, for the first time that Lunch. "Banquo would know right away that you killed King Duncan of Scotland."

"I'm afraid I'm not auditioning for Lady Macbeth, contrary to your speculations." Castiel deadpanned back, as Charlie resorted to chuckling once again. He eyed his phone, lying on the table, hesitantly. What would he even say?

"My point is that, calling him might make you, and him feel better." Charlie resumed human speech, from her hyena-like cackles of laughter. "And, you know you want to!" She added, in a singsong voice which brought red to Castiel's cheeks.

"Shut up," he squinted at Charlie.

"Look, your longing to be with Dean, has taken the edge off of your sarcastic retorts!" Charlie batted her eyelashes dramatically. "Oh, Lords, if Dean saw you like this!?"

"I hope you know you're freakishly annoying." Castiel frowned again, finally picking up his phone. His spirits were lifted already. He'd figure out what to talk about, when Dean picked up the phone. He..just needed to hear from Dean. That wasn't too ridiculous, was it?

"I do have a gift." Charlie solemnly nodded, as Castiel dialed Dean's number - he had a good memory, that's all - into his cell, almost uncertainly. 

"You guys can do something else, you know." He frowned, as the phone began ringing and he held it to his ear, and the rest of the three were looking at him, almost waiting. 

"Oh, of course, privacy!" Charlie smiled. "Don't worry, lover-boy, we'll be right here at this table, discussing Jo, now that the 'Dean' issue has been sorted."

Castiel ignored the sensation of a smile at hearing how the Dean issue had been sorted...because of him. He waited for someone to pick up. For Dean's probably-dull voice to mutter a disgruntled 'hello', or a 'hey' or-

"Hi." 

"Hey, Dea-" Castiel began, instantly.

"You've reached Dean's voicemail." He was cut off, by a pre-recorded message. "I'm probably doing some crap crappier than my usual crap and can't pick up the phone. If you have something to say, say it after the beep. I'll get back to you if I feel like it." There followed a high-pitched beep.

Castiel immediately put down the phone. Dean's voicemail message had been just as cut-to-the-chase and Dean-Winchester-y as him. But Castiel didn't know what to say; after the beep, that is. He'd just been hoping he'd get to say a few comforting words to Dean, and probably-

"Who was that?" Garth asked, interrupting. "His dad?"

Castiel shook his head. "Why would his dad pick up Dean's phone?"

"One time, when we were in Freshman year, his dad took away his phone for an entire month." Benny explained dismissively. "And all he'd done was..." His voice trailed away, awkwardly.

"Was?"

"His dad stumbled over him, with a guy." Benny muttered, hurriedly. "Long story. Ask him later. Or rather, don't." Castiel's mind had begun to race. 'With a guy?' Did Dean's dad not know that Dean was bisexual? Or worse - did he not support his choice? "What happened?" Benny urgently asked. "Why did you hang up?"

"I got his voicemail." Castiel was barely able to keep the disappointment out of his voice. 

"Do you have a fear of speaking to recorded Dean-Winchester's-voice?" Benny frowned, puzzled.

"I don't have a message to leave." Castiel replied, dumbly. "What would I say? 'When will you be back'?"

"How about that very sentence?" Charlie rolled his eyes, picking up Castiel's mobile. 

Castiel took it away at once. "I'm not leaving a message like that."

"Maybe an 'are you fine'?" Garth offered. "And a 'I miss you' and then 'when will you be back'?"

"He'd laugh at it." Castiel was quite sure he was blushing again.

"That'd do him good at a time like this." Benny said, seriously. Castiel knew he was right. Maybe, he could leave him a message.

"Maybe." He muttered, beginning to dial his number again. "I could tell him that I took care of Coach, before Sam told you to." He added, under his breath. The phone began ringing again. "Guys, look away." Castiel waved his hand in the air, and the three of them immediately recentered their attention on their trays.

"Hi." Dean's smooth, albeit grumpy, voice greeted him.

"Hey." Castiel breathed out.

"You've reached Dean's voicemail. I'm probably doing some crap crappier than my usual crap and can't pick up the phone. If you have something to say, say it after the beep. I'll get back to you if I feel like it." There followed the beep.

Castiel waited for a second.

"H-hey, Dean. It's me, Cas." He paused for awhile. "You looked kinda distressed when you took off, and I was wondering if things are fine. With Jo. Is she okay? And with your dad? And Sam? And Ellen?" He blabbered, not even thinking about it. Charlie gestured wildly at him, and he finally began asking the meaningful stuff. "Are you okay? We were all kinda worried - uhh, all of us. Like, Benny, and Charlie, and Garth, and even Bela, and are you okay? Like, what should I tell them?" He laughed weakly and awkwardly. Charlie slapped a hand to her forehead. "Also, did you reach home safely? Like, the drive - was it okay? Did you drive or did Sam? And were you okay-" Castiel let out an exasperated breath, and hung up mid message, not saving the message. The message got deleted.

"What was that?" Garth blinked. "You sounded like Desperate Housewives who are insecure of her desperacy. Do you always talk on the phone like that? Did I just never notice because you're my best friend?"

Castiel scowled at him, before dropping his head on his his arms, facing the table. "I am unbelievably bad at talking to prerecorded messages, aren't I?"

"Well, from where I was," Benny grinned. "It sounded more as though you were unbelievably bad at telling Dean you're worried about him rather than talking to his voicemail."

Castiel felt called out. He didn't respond.

"Give it another try," Charlie nudged him. "One last try, and then I'll just send that message instead."

"Okay..." Castiel sighed.

"It'll be great this time." She encouraged. "Just..try pretending as though Dean is on the other side of the line, and leave him a short message. Pretend as though we're not here, and you're alone-"

"In his bedroom?" Cut in an unfamiliar voice. It was Crowley, who seated himself on the spar seat on the table, his eyes judging. "Really, Bradbury? You want Cas here to lose the last bit of his self-respect and moan out Winchester's name in ecstasy in the middle of the hall?" He smirked at his own sentence. Castiel darkened.

"Cut the crap, Crowley." Benny said fiercely. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I heard this was Dean Winchester's search party, so I thought I'd join in!" Crowley said, in an almost happy tone.

Castiel was astonished at his own response then. Maybe Dean's words from several weeks before had affected him, or maybe Dean's absence had. "You're not invited on this table, Crowley. And since you once acted as though I'm an extramarital affair of some sort at your gang's table, I'm gonna tell this to you in the politest way I can conjure- Get the hell away from here."

The entire ground stared at Castiel, Crowley looking stumped more than anything else. 

After a while, Crowley stuttered up a, "W-what did you say to me, Novak!?"

"I asked you to get the hell away from here." Castiel hissed back, anger he didn't know he'd been keeping inside, coming up. "Now, I think I'd rather have asked you to go to hell. Or wait, who am I kidding? You don't even deserve to be asked. Would you prefer if I yelled at you instead? Or perhaps take you by the collar, and finish what Dean started that day-" he paused mid sentence, aware he'd said a lot, and restraining himself. Charlie's unsure hand on his arm, helped.

"You sound like you grew a pair in your boyfriend's absence." Crowley stood up. "Ask your lover to thank me later, Novak. I'd like to think I have something to do with it."

"You think that sounds smart, but you're actually terrified of what'd happen if I did kick your ass right here, in front of most of our class, and you're going to back off, right about now, and get the hell out of my face." Castiel stood up, again, losing the last bit of his self-control. He was prepared to fly at Crowley, if he said another word badly. He had no idea why it all got to his head - probably because Dean wasn't at his side to say the same things, and he wanted to hear them, so he said them himself.

"Wow, someone's got their panties in a knot." Crowley begun to walk away. "You know what, Novak? I have detention now, so I'm not gonna take you up on that generous offer right away, but I'm gonna remember it." He turned to Benny, still walking away. "Any word from Dean yet, Lafitte?" Castiel calmed down so instantly, it was miraculous.

"He didn't ask for you particularly through Sam, when he called to tell they're all okay." Benny replied shortly, summarising it all in a line. With a laugh on his lips, Crowley strutted off. Charlie took her arm off Castiel.

"What was that?" Benny demanded, not unkindly.

"I'm sorry," Castiel muttered. "I just - Crowley's just annoying."

"And you're a ticking time bomb." Garth added, almost laughing. "Would you really have hit him?"

"If he asked for it, yes." Castiel somehow felt good about himself, as if Dean would've been proud of him. It was a good feeling. He'd 'fought for his honour', he mused to himself. "Forget about it. I just don't - I really don't like that guy."

Benny pursed his lips. "Gotta tell you, man, Dean would've liked to be here to see that."

Castiel flashed at him a little smile. "He'll see it, if Crowley bothers us again. And, enough talking about Dean. I have Chemistry Practicals. Anyone with me?"

"I am." Garth beamed, standing up. "C'mon, we can be partners again, for today."

Castiel's chest stung a little bit; Dean had almost made it a ritual to be present for all Chemistry Practicals. It was their thing. "Sure, Garth."

"You can talk to Dean later, Castiel." Charlie muttered, standing up, to head towards her Art class. "When he does pick up the phone, and you won't have to leave a voicemail; you can talk to him direct."

Castiel nodded. "Or I can talk to him when he returns to school tomorrow - we are all making this a very big deal. We should be more worried," he paused, seeing the others stare at him pointedly. "I mean, this is not about Dean and me. It's about Jo. Tell me if you hear from her." He shrugged at Benny.

"Yeah, I'll try to call her myself." Benny grinned. "I miss chastising her about table etiquettes." He groaned, dramatically. 

"And I miss talking to her about Emma Watson." Charlie groaned, in unison, almost. "She might've been a girl, but she was the only one who understood my infatuation with that perfect piece of human."

"C'mon, I'll talk to you about her." Benny laughed.

"She might be both of our crushes, but I'm not just crazy about her gorgeous ass." Charlie teased, as Benny rolled his eyes. "It may be an essential part of it, but it's not."

"Of course not, you're crazy about her only because of her portrayal of Hermione, or was it Pansy Park-"

"You little son of a bitch!" Charlie yelled dramatically. "How can you get confused between Hermione and Pansy Parkinson whose only character trait was crushing on Draco, throughout the series!?"

"Considering I never saw the movies, I'd say fairly easily." Benny stage-whispered to Castiel and Garth, who'd been watching his exchange, smilingly.

"We'll be late, Castiel, hurry!" Garth called, pulling at Castiel's arm.

"Yeah, let's go." Castiel, in a slightly clearer state of mind, yet rather distractedly began following in Garth's footsteps to the laboratory.

And later, sometime in between of Ancient History - his favourite subject, yes - Castiel asked to be excused. And in the privacy of the boys' washroom, he did send a voicemail to Dean. He was quite sure all of his friends would be quite proud of him.

"Hi, Dean. It's me, Cas. I was wondering how things from the morning turned out to be, and if you were fine. Jo too, is she okay? Call me later, and we can talk properly - I'd like to talk, Dean. Also, take care, okay? Sam told Benny you were okay, so just - stay okay, I guess. Or become okay, if that was a lie told to make us feel better. We miss you here at school, and I, just want to hear from you, okay? Call me. Whatever. Actually, not whatever - do call me. Whenever. Yeah, that's more accurate. Bye."

Perfectly breezy, right?

***

Castiel went home with Gabriel. He wasn't a big fan of Gabriel's bright red car, but it would have to do.

On the way home, Gabriel insisted on playing ridiculous songs, half of which Castiel hadn't even heard. It was a nightmare, after the car rides with Dean where music created half of the comfortable home-like ambience. Castiel missed the Impala. He was crazy, but he did.

When Gabriel finally parked in Paradise, he looked at Castiel quizzically. "Hey, you alright?"

Castiel looked at him warily. "You really want to ask me that, after forcing me to bear with your dreadful tastes for the last half hour?"

"Not a single unflattering whisper about my music." Gabriel warned. "I just meant, on the whole, you know. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Castiel muttered, stepping out of the car. "What could be different today?"

"Well, Dean's not been ther-" Gabriel pointed out.

"How did you know?" 

"Aside from the fact that you asked to drive home with me after literally a month or so; Sam told me." Gabriel shrugged.

"Sam?" Castiel repeated. "He wasn't at school either."

"Perhaps the time has come to introduce you to this curious little device which humans have begun to refer to as a mobilephone." Gabriel begun sarcastically.

"Sam Winchester has your number?" Castiel repeated, unbelievingly. "Why would he have your number? He doesn't even have my number!"

"We're-" Gabriel paused mid sentence. "You really don't pay attention to the things I say sometimes, do you?"

"I really don't." Castiel frowned.

"Well, you're not the only Novak who's dating a Winchester." Gabriel laughed, following Castiel up the steps to Paradise. Castiel stopped in his tracks, turning around and staring at Gabriel with wide eyes. 

"Are you kidding me-"

"Oh, come on!" Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Why would I need to be kidding you?"

"Because Sam is- and you are- and you two are-" Castiel don't know how to react. "Seriously!?"

"In all seriousness, why can't Sam and I be dating?" Gabriel squinted, like Castiel always did.

"He's a freshman and you're a senior! And he's Dean's brother, and you're my brother!"

"Interesting, highly invalid point." Gabriel tapped his chin pretentiously. "Look, Castiel, this is not at all about you two and your complicated thing with the dare and denial and bullshit. We're doing the normal two-people-meet-and-go-on-dates-and-then-kiss thing!" Gabriel shrugged. "It's not like we're already having sex, because he's only 16, and it's very soon. And of course, we're keeping it kind of private, because we're both extremely popular, especially me, and several complications may ensue! Plus, I don't wanna rub it in Lucifer's face yet."

Castiel blinked, still dumbstruck. He couldn't believe his ears. He needed to talk to Dean, even more importantly now. Gabriel sounded serious; and mature, and serious! Gabriel never sounded serious! He was Gabriel!

"Wait a second, is that what you and Lucifer and Michael have been fighting about?" Castiel frowned.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "One of these days, I'm really going to take offense for you not listening to anything I say, you little prude. You know of Lucifer's giant obsession with Sam, right? Now, I wasn't aware that the person I met and hit it off with was Lucifer's Sam, and by the time I came to know of it, it was too late. We'd already gone on a date, and he already liked me too much."

Castiel touched his throbbing forehead. "Gabriel, slow down. You're messing up my mind."

"Don't overreact, Cassie. So, your brother and Dean's brother are dating? What, you feel insecure?" Gabriel snorted. "Jealous? Threatened?"

"I feel weird." Castiel declared, retiring on the soft couch in the living room. "Too weird to keep talking to you about this."

"Yeah, and I don't feel weird at all listening to you ramble on about Dean Winchester's freckles, and the hilarious joke he pulled on Garth, and how he's secretly smart, and how he's-"

"Not the same thing." Castiel muttered.

"Yeah, you go into way too many gross details."

"I don't!"

"'Oh Gabriel, Dean kissed me on the nose today!'" Gabriel attempted a high falsetto.

"I've never said that!?" Castiel yelled back.

"Okay, then, 'Oh Gabriel, Dean taught me how to repair a car today! He's the most wonderful boyfriend everrrrr!'" Gabriel laughed.

"You added the second part, you-"

"And of course, the insufferable, 'Oh Gabriel, Dean is taking me out on a date today! What should I wear and do?'" He sang.

Castiel stood up, and began to run after Gabriel, who immediately begun racing away. "You are such an ass-" He paused suddenly, seeing Charles eyeing the both of them, warily. "Butt." He completed, in his most nonchalant manner.

Gabriel, apparently didn't understand the essence of Castiel's change of manner. "Assbutt? Seriously!? You're a fucking junior at highschool now, you little asshole, and you still have that censor in your brain functioning-"

"Gabriel, what did you just call Castiel?" Came Charles's voice, and Gabriel froze. Charles could sound fearful when he wanted to.

"Dad..." Gabriel's voice trailed off. "I just..."

"I understand you're 19, Gabriel, but you're planning to move back to Paradise, and I won't tolerate swearing in here." Charles said, with a sombre look. Before breaking out into a smile. "Not in front of me, anyways!"

Gabriel relaxed into a smile, at the change of tone in Charles's voice. "Aye, aye, dad. Why don't you have Castiel make a list of the rest of things I'm not supposed to do in front of you? I'm sure I'll be able to keep to it better that way-"

"Dad, Gabriel's only doing that so that I have to do some stupid wor-"

"Dad, did you hear Castiel calling your rules stupi-"

"I called you stupid, and not the rules!" Castiel was out of breath, though he had a giant smile on his face. It was just like the times before. "Dad, Gabriel's trying to blame me fo-"

"Dad, Cassie's being a little snitch-"

Charles sighed. "Except that you two grew in size and learnt new vocabulary," he smiled broadly. "It's just like when you guys were in primary."

"Dad, you've got it kind of wrong." Castiel smirked. "I grew in size, and Gabriel learnt new vocabulary." Gabriel squinted, as Castiel airily stood up taller than he usually stood, towering a head and shoulders above Gabriel.

"For once, you are right. I grew brains. You, I'm afraid, only grew in length." Gabriel winked.

"You should not be saying that," Castiel retorted, a smile on his face. "I bet I'll do better than you in your chosen subjects!"

"Oh, but I grew street smart, you little bookworm baby brother of mine!" Gabriel replied breezily. 

"Getting laid is not streetsmartness-"

"It's not street stupidity like you have acquired," Gabriel stuck out his tongue at Castiel. "At least I'm not engaged in a stupid dare regarding whether or not I fall in love with the most lovable guy in highschool who - admit it - you already are falling in love with!"

"Oh, oh, did you just call Dean the most lovable guy in Lawrence High?" Castiel dramatically smiled sweetly, completely not paying attention to rest of Gabriel's dialogue. "Oh, I need to tell Sam about this! Why don't you lend me his number, since you have it?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Do you sound disappointed that I have it, and you don't? Did you want both the Winchesters for yourself?"

"No!" Castiel begun to walk away. "I just wanted my good friend Sam to be with a person more of his level." He paused, and turned to Gabriel. "And yes, if you were confused, I am talking solely and only about your height!?"

"Yeah, use that one again and again, but after it's staled out, I'll still have millions of things in store for you, my poor flawed brother!"

"Oh, shut up!"

"Really articulate."

"Okay, Gabriel, you look beautiful with your lips pursed. Well, more human-like anyways. So if you would, please clasp your lips together and do not open them to emit sounds that resemble words again, because I'm not interested, and didn't ask for your opinion, and don't want to continue those baseless conversation with a person as annoying as you."

"That's more like it."

***

Castiel sat on his desk, getting homework done, when Gabriel waltzed into his room. At least, Castiel formerly assumed that he waltzed in, because although Castiel had his back to him, he knew his brother. But when Gabriel sat down in front of Castiel's desk, his face held a worried look. Castiel immediately straightened; it was not his dramatic worried look. It looked genuine.

"Uh, what's up?" He blinked, ridding his brain of the Trigonometry, and all the sine and cosine and tangent functions. "Are you fine?"

"Do you know why Dean and Sam left early?" Gabriel asked, in a subdued tone, in answer.

Castiel closed his book, and shook his head. "Something regarding Jo, and their dad."

"Yeah." Gabriel nodded. "I just talked to Sam. It's pretty bad. He's pretty furious about his dad. He's even talking of running away from home. Like, away. He said he'd do it after senior year, that he was already planning it, and he was very worked up, Castiel." He cast his eyes downwards. "How's Dean dealing with it?"

"He's - taking it badly too. He sounded really upset when we talked." Castiel lied.

"You haven't talked to him, have you?"

"I've tried calling, but I only got his voicemail." Castiel confessed, shaking his head. "Sam called you upfront?" He hated the feeling it gave him.

"I just finished talking to him." He nodded. "And, hey, don't take it hard. Sam said Dean is pretty furious too. He isn't even talking to anyone." He paused, and looked at Castiel cautiously. "After hearing the whole deal, he got into a shouting match with his dad, then stormed out, and hasn't returned home since."

"He could be at the Harvelles'." Castiel muttered, hopefully.

"Yeah, he probably is, now." Gabriel smiled brightly. "Don't worry, 'kay? He'll be fine."

"What even happened?" Castiel asked, sighing softly, tired. He was worried, and Dean wasn't calling, and no one had seen him for a very long while, and he missed Dean, and Dean didn't even care to reply to a voicemail.

"Apparently John Winchester - that's their dad - said a bunch of things to your friend, Jo. Bad things." Gabriel added, with a bounce of his shoulders.

"Okay," Castiel didn't quite follow. "What could he have said that's so bad?"

"Things regarding her father." Gabriel said quietly.

Castiel's eyes widened. "Oh."

"Illmeaning things about her father. They were colleagues in the family business. John went to the Roadhouse, and when Jo refused to serve him anymore because he was really drunk, and offered to drive him home, he belted out a series of insults about her family. About her mom - about how they had the Roadhouse and the Publishing House all owing to him, about how Jo was not good enough for his sons which came up from god-knows-where and ended it all with a comment on how her dad got himself killed but how he, John had helped get him done with, by collaborating with a nemesis and how it'd been good riddance because her dad was a drunk and an alcoholic and how he'd disappointed John and how he deserved to be dead." Gabriel spoke slowly, and Castiel hung onto every word.

He felt intense anger for John when it was done, and immense pain for Dean. Jo was his friend, very much like family; and his dad had talked to her like that. Castiel couldn't even gauge how Dean must've felt. "What..?" He muttered.

"Yeah." Gabriel looked upset too. "Their dad's a total dick, isn't he?"

Castiel averted his eyes. "He's their dad, Gabe." He breathed out. "They shouldn't fight with him." He added, not really believing his own words.

"Fight with him? They should fight the shit out of him." Gabriel glared at Castiel. "What kind of an ideal Biblical Golden age are you living in!?"

"Gabriel," Castiel sighed. "Running away isn't an option. You have to explain that to Sam. They should talk things out-"

"Castiel," Gabriel breathed tentatively. "Running away is the only option. I gave Sam my opinion on it, and he accepts that. Maybe, you should be more worried on how his brother is dealing with his rage."

Castiel bitterly smiled. "His brother is probably punching dry wall, his cellphone thrown away in a fit of rage and he probably got into some stupid drunken fight." Gabriel bit his lip, sympathetically. 

Castiel had no idea why it felt good to talk to Gabriel about it. Perhaps because Gabriel was more and less going through the same thing as him. They were bonding over similar problems; the Winchester brothers. It felt like a movie of the Margaret Mitchell era; only it was now and real. In any case, it was the first time in a very long time that the brothers were talking about something so serious. Castiel just wished it weren't all that serious. He just wished Dean would call in and tell everyone, that he was okay with it.

"I think he's doing better than that." Gabriel blinked, reassuringly.

Castiel looked at Gabriel skeptically. "How do you have any idea of that?"

"I kinda saw him..?" Gabriel's voice trailed off.

Castiel frowned at Gabriel, his eyes wide. "You saw Dean!?" He repeated, louder than he would've liked.

"Okay, shush," Gabriel grinned, his face lighting up. "I saw a video of him."

"What does that even mean!?" Castiel glared back.

"It means that," Gabriel sighed. "Somebody posted a video of Dean on Instagram, dated today. And unwillingly, I saw it."

"How ridiculous is that?" Castiel frowned deeper, picking up his phone, only to realise he'd been so inactive on the site that it'd probably gotten freezed. He put it down. "Do people have nothing better to do?"

"Well, some people pretty aggressively ship Dean and Lisa." Gabriel raised his hands in defense, immediately paling, because Castiel's jaw dropped, his eyes unblinkingly staring at his brother.

"Lisa Braeden." Castiel repeated, under his breath, his mind freezing for a moment. Lisa Braeden. "People ship Dean and Lisa." He repeated, once more, his heart throbbing against his chest, as he rushed to calm himself to his average heart rate. He forced a small apathetic smile on his face. "I know that. So, Dean's video has Lisa Braeden in it?"

"Kinda." Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "It's really not a big deal." He hurried to add. "People are crazy. Probably just some stupid follower of Lisa. It's not a big deal at all."

So, Dean didn't return his call, but he met with Lisa.

Awesome.

Fucking awesome.

"I'm sure, it's not." Castiel kept his straight face on. He needed to see that video. "But, just, you know, for kicks, let me see the video."

Gabriel shook his head instantly. "Not for kicks, and not for 'pretty-pleases'." He declared. "You're not seeing that video."

"Gabriel, please, it doesn't matter to me." Castiel attempted a shrug. He partially succeeded in lifting his shoulders, although it was too stiff to be a shrug. "I don't even care. I just - Show it to me, Gabriel."

"It's seriously nothing at all," Gabriel muttered, hesitantly. "You can't even hear them talk. The videographer was obviously a good way away."

"I don't want to hear them talk; I just want to see it once - why aren't you showing it to me?" Castiel scowled. He needed to see that video. Although he was willing to bet nothing could get him in a worser fit than his heart was in, at the moment. He was furious at Dean, but why, he couldn't explain. He was also extremely furious at John, and a little bit at Lisa, but mostly at Dean. 

Dean fucking Winchester was a lying bastard, his mind conjured up from somewhere. But wait, hadn't Dean clarified that himself a long way back the timeline? 

"Okay, but I'm warning you, it's purely coincidental that the two of them ran into one another." Gabriel opened the app, and begun to search for it. "Nothing means anything. Dean feels nothing for Lisa-"

"You don't know a thing about Dean, so save it." Castiel hissed, as Gabriel clicked play.

The video began in a blur, which cleared to show a haphazard looking Dean Winchester in different clothes than he wore in the morning, with Lisa by his side, entering the Starbucks. He looked around a bit, then leaned on the counter, and ordered something - none of it was audible. Lisa, her dark hair lying loose and in beach curls over an AC-DC shirt of the type Dean often wore, ordered something too, which Dean took out his wallet and paid for. 

The two of them stayed at the counter the whole while, talking; their food still not served. Lisa's hand touched Dean's forearm a minute later, and Dean ducked his head in return. He probably told her about his dad. Lisa then leaned towards him, and whispered something in his ear. Dean smiled instantly. She probably offered to help. Lisa's lips moved for a long while, apparently some sort of a motivational speech, because at the end of it, she stepped down from her stool, and Dean straightened, and they hugged. For far too long. When they separated, Lisa touched Dean's face with his hand, and sat down again. They touch each other far too much to not feel anything. Finally, the waitress served them their beverages, and with Lisa wrapping her hand comfortably around Dean's middle, and leaning against him, the two of them walked back out.

The camera turned to the face of a giggling girl, who proceeded to say some things Castiel didn't want to hear. He paused the video, and looked up at Gabriel.

"Yeah, that meant nothing."

"It didn't." Gabriel insisted.

"They hugged - he paid for her drink - she caressed his cheek - they literally almost held hands." Castiel pointed out, struggling to keep his volume level.

"They didn't hold hands. She didn't caress his cheek, she touched a bruise! He was being a gentleman, and hugging is a friendly gesture." Gabriel responded, taking on each of Castiel's notices.

"It doesn't matter," Castiel ignored his brother. "I'm stupid. Dean's in love with Lisa. Why would he call me back? All this is to him, is a dare anyways. I was overreacting anyways. I don't like him or anything." Castiel cleared his throat, ignoring the rivulets of sweat on his forehead. "Pfft, I don't give a damn. He can kiss her for all I care. He probably did, right after they walked out. But Gabriel, I could not care less. Or maybe I could. Uh, Let's not talk about him. Let's not talk about Dean Winchester ever, ever again. Let's talk about..Let's talk about Remus Lupin. We never talk about him."

"Castiel, please-" Gabriel rolled his eyes.

"Can you throw away my phone for me, on your way out?" Castiel handed Gabriel his phone, with a serious look on his face. "I actually have to study - I missed out on a bunch of stuff today. I have homework, and projects, and a life which doesn't revolve around Dean Winchester. Why would it, anyways? It's not like he matters to me, at all. Or I to him. I don't care about him, let alone like him. And he doesn't even - it doesn't matter." Castiel's brain was numb, almost.

"Castiel, see, it means nothing. He was vulnerable, and she was there for him as a friend." Gabriel sighed, standing up. "You can understand that if you look at it with a clear mind, Castiel."

"You know what, you're right." Castiel fake-smiled. "Of course, it doesn't. But whether it did or not, I don't care. I don't care."

"I'm going to kick Dean Winchester's ass the next time we see him." Gabriel almost sighed, beginning to walk away, suddenly changing tone. Castiel wondered what suddenly flipped a switch in him.

"Don't do that." Castiel scowled, defensively. "I'm never seeing him again. It doesn't matter."

"It does, to me." Gabriel shrugged. "Because I told you so before, and then that asshole changed my mind with his gestures, and now I'm back to my original mindset. Dean doesn't deserve you. Maybe you should just forget his stupid face."

"Dean Winchester who?" Castiel joked, as Gabriel walked out.

Gabriel closed the door behind him, wordlessly.

Castiel looked back at his books, but his vision was clouded, with tears pricking his eyes. 

He hated it. He hated it. A part of him had hoped. Most of him had been uncertain; but a part of him had dared to hope. 

Dean Winchester. He who Castiel had dared to fall for; He who was getting back together with his ex.

A part of him begged it to be proven wrong. For it to be, as Gabriel had claimed, nothing. 

But most of him had given up hope. 

Hope is a delicate thing; Castiel had hoped, and given up hope. The whole John-Winchester thing didn't even make it to the surface of his mind; he was angry. He might've weakened in his determination to stay strong against Dean's efforts to make him fall for him, but he was not weak. He would not be lied to; he would not be made a joke out of. He would not tolerate Dean's sugercoated lies anymore, just because they brought an unprecedentedly dreamy smile on his face, or Dean Winchester's efforts to be near him, and be irresistible and to get Castiel Novak to fall for him.

And by tomorrow, he resolved, because there was no way Dean was going to contact Castiel any longer - now that he had Lisa Braeden back - he would confront Dean, and give him a piece of his mind, and ask him to go screw himself.

Castiel had been anticipating it; hoping it didn't come to this, but anticipating nonetheless.

He just pitied the fact that it was this very day that he'd accepted to himself, that he was falling for Dean Winchester.

He wondered if it was a fraction of a moment too late - this revelation.

And he wondered, What If?

And he wondered how he'd return to his former lifestyle after having - after this. 

He wondered, after a very long time, why he'd been the guy who'd been picked to be Dean Winchester's dare's victim. 

***

Castiel lay in his bed, with his arms folded over his chest, a blanket over him; the clock struck one, but his eyes were wide open. If he hadn't been so upset, he'd amuse over the fact that he was sleeping like vampires did in all movies ever. But now was not the time.

He'd begun to get drowsy by eleven, and had put down his book - Kane and Abel, Jeffrey Archer - and prepared to sleep. But his mind hadn't allowed him to. All the sleep which the tiny fonts of his favourite classic had brought to him, was long gone - in the wake of his utter frustration over his condition.

He'd completely forgotten about John Winchester and Jo, or even the dare anymore.

All he was truly thinking about, was that Dean Winchester had - in the barest sense of the word - cheated on him. He'd claimed that what they had meant something to him; that Castiel was an important part of his life, and that Dean actually liked Castiel. 

He'd used words; or had Castiel read into them wrongly?

Castiel remembered clearly, from back Freshman year.

Dean and Lisa had been quite the most popular couple in school, back in Freshman year. Dean had been 17, and older than most kids in his class, and had even then been irresistible with his charms, good looks, and words. Lisa had been a barely-there player on the girls' basketball team - she was Head Cheerleader now - and even after their very first date, everyone who knew them was rooting for them. Even sophomores congratulated their relationship - which was a pretty huge deal back then.

It'd gone smooth for a year - public displays of affection, dates in the Cafeteria, Going to a movie every week - and then all of a sudden, it'd reached the dorks of Drama Club - who Castiel identified himself with - through Charlie, he recalled, that they'd broken up. No one knew exactly why; some presumed Dean had his eyes on a new girl, some presumed Dean had had enough of Lisa Braeden. Everybody knew Dean had broke it off. 

Apparently, Dean had been responsible. No one blamed Lisa; apparently she never quite moved on.

Well, Castiel bitterly sighed, she hadn't after all. 

It all seemed like fate.

And in someone else's love story, it was like Castiel was the other one-sided romantic interest - because while Dean showed that he'd moved on; he'd never quite and didn't know it himself until the other guy did something to remind him of his former lover.

It was such a clichéd story, that Castiel was sure his life was based on a twisted Nicholas Spark's movie.

Why hadn't he realised that he was the other guy?

How had he even dared to think that he was one of the protagonists? Boring, and bullied nerds like him weren't ever the heroes of a movie; unless it was a motivational film, and Castiel didn't want to be a hero of that film. 

It sounded like crap.

Just like him, Castiel cursed at God, and turned over to a side; forcing himself to sleep.

*

A sound that resembled an earthquake, woke him up. His eyes shot wide open, as he drew in deep breaths, and reached out for the bed's wooden headrest, just in case.

"Cas!" Came another sound, and Castiel sat upright in his bed.

Through the farthest window to his room, he saw a silhouette of a figure. On staring at it dumbly for a full minute, he realised who it was. And exactly a fraction of a second later, he realised that Dean Winchester was actually standing out his window at one in the morning, and knocking on the glass, and hissing out the shortened version of his name.

"Dean!" Castiel coughed out, as he hurriedly got off his bed - conveniently getting his feet entangled in all the crumped sheets and covers - and limped to the window, after hitting his toe on an unmoving table. He instantly opened the glass windows, a deep and confused frown on his lips, and reached out for Dean's shirt, because Dean was cackling in laughter, and leaning back in the dark. He caught a fistful of it, and dragged Dean inside, disbelievingly. Dean, fortunately paused his laughing to step over the sill, and once he was inside resumed, even as Castiel hissed at him in hushed whispers. 

"What do you think you're doing here, Dean!?" He netted his brows into a frown. "It's past midnight, and I was sleeping, and you're-" Castiel paused, as he noticed Dean's lightly staggering frame, and unfocused eyes. "You're drunk, Dean!"

"Brownie points, Cas," Dean slurred a bit, on the S's. "Also, you make a very good picture like this." He drew back his head to apparently size Castiel out - check him out - and Castiel uncomfortably ran a hand through his hair to smoothen out his messy hair, which stuck out in every way possible. "Can I get a hug?" Dean murmured, a moment later, leaning in, and opening his arms widely.

"Why would I hug you?" Castiel rolled his eyes, his hand tentatively holding his forehead. "Dean, you're not making sense! You're drunk, and you're being weird." Castiel gestured to his bed. "Sit down on the bed, Dean, and I'll get you some water."

"Pie," Dean drunkenly slurred. "Get me some pie, Cas! And get here yourself!" Castiel huffed in exasperation. "Aw, c'mon, I came all the way here to meet you! Won't you even hug me a hello? Or kiss me a 'I love you'?" Dean laughed, at what was supposed be a hilarious joke.

"Are front doors only for sane, sober men?" Castiel growled, ignoring Dean's drunken blabbering as he poured him a glass of water.

"Windows are so much more romantic." Dean informed Castiel, with an extremely serious look on his face, as he took the glass of water from his hand. "Seriously though, you should not have an attached balcony to your room. Makes it so less thrilling, than climbing into your first-floor room through your window past midnight should be!" He sounded almost complaining.

Castiel rolled his eyes, his brain beginning to process things. He sat down on his bed softly, eyeing Dean carefully, as the latter gulped down each drop of his glass. Dean wore a leather jacket which Castiel had never seen him wear before, and a plain brown crew-neck under it, and he reeked of beer. His hair was messed up, as if he had been doing cartwheels using his head instead of hands, and his face held traces of grime, and a light bruise on his cheek. His eyes, unlike the first time when Castiel had seen him drunk, were completely unfocused, flickering around the place, and Castiel spotted bags under them, which could've been due to tire or too much alcohol.

"Dean, what are you doing here?" Castiel asked gently, blinking, as sleep fled from his own eyes.

"I came to see you." Dean smiled dopily, his head drooping slightly. "You left me a message. I tried to reach you, and I couldn't. And at twelve twenty seven in the night, when I couldn't fall asleep, I realised I couldn't fall asleep because I hadn't seen you yet. And at exactly twelve thirty two, I decided to fuck the timing and Disney-ness-of-this-thing, and come over to see you."

Castiel stared at Dean, incredulously, a slight brush creeping onto his cheeks.

"Just so you know," Dean added hastily. "I don't really remember the time. I made it up, to add perfection to the story. You know, how all dramas have the actor listing second-to-second records? Man, I wish I had so awesome a memory!" His eyes turned dreamy. "But of course, I'm an idiot, and that's all I've ever be." His shoulders slumped.

Okay, so super drunk Dean was highly-self-reflective and low-self-esteemed. Castiel could handle that.

"You're not an idiot, and the actors make it up too." Castiel consoled, his hand reaching out to pat Dean's knee.

Dean immediately flicked, and faced Castiel with wide eyes, the green in them shining. "Oh my god, Cas, you must think I'm doing this as a romantic thing, huh?" Castiel stared at Dean tentatively, because he'd been the one complaining that the balcony had lessened the romanticism of his purpose. "At one in the morning, I break into your room, because I miss you? That sounds like such a clichéd booty call!" He slapped his forehead, as Castiel resisted the urge to laugh. "But don't worry, I'm not here for sex. Or a makeout session, because that's the farthest we've made it to, yet, right? Although that'd be great, huh? But, no, that's not my purpose. I just came in to check on you."

Castiel smiled. "Check in on me, huh?" He was enjoying Dean's presence more than he assumed.

"Yeah, just remind you that I exist." Dean shrugged exaggeratedly. "We hadn't met for so long; I just wondered if you forgot about me."

Castiel could've snorted. "You think I have that bad a memory?"

"I think I matter that little to you." Dean looked up at Castiel through dense eyelashes. 

"I left you a message."

"You didn't come over." Dean whined.

"I didn't know where to come over to." Castiel protested.

"Yeah, that's right, make excuses!" Dean tossed his head dramatically. Castiel raised an eyebrow; Dean had wanted him to come visit.

"You wanted me to come over?" Castiel repeated, cautiously.

"Of course!" Dean frowned. "I mean, I knew you wouldn't, but I kinda hoped you would. It would make me... you know. Jess visited Sam, and they aren't even dating, and Becky visited Sam and made him lettuce sandwiches with little slices of ham and mayonnaise sauce and tomatoes and cheese-"

Castiel stopped him before he listed off a recipe. "Okay, so you needed someone there for you?"

"No, obviously not." Dean scowled boyishly. "I managed perfectly well on my own. I gave that son of a bitch a piece of my mind. And I yelled at him that if he ever were to do anything like that again-" Dean realised how Castiel was staring at Dean, and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay, that's a lie. I couldn't do anything, with or without anyone there for me. He's my dad, and I can't...say stuff to him. He said all that crap to Jo, and..I couldn't do a thing about it."

Castiel sensed Dean's agony; his heart went out to him. He wanted to hold Dean, and stroke his hair, and tell him that he did his best, and that Castiel understood. But words didn't come out so well. He extended his hand to touch Dean's shoulder, "Jo's fine, Dean. No one blames you."

"I blame me." Dean said bitterly, shrugging Castiel's hand off. "And everyone should blame me. Cas, you have no idea what my dad told her. About what I thought of her. It was all meaningless shit, Cas, but now Jo thinks that I hate her, and-"

"She doesn't." Castiel insisted, sliding towards Dean, on the bed. "Don't worry, Dean, Jo will never believe John. And confronting John isn't going to help anything, Dean. I get it."

"I'm a spineless fucked-up adult who's too chicken to stand up to his dad."

"Who said that?" Castiel had his arm wrapped around Dean now.

"My dad did." Dean huffed, leaning into Castiel's arm, against Castiel. "It's like he wanted me to react to it. Like Sam did. But I never can; I never could. I disappointed him, as well as Jo, and Sam, and Ellen, and-"

"Your dad doesn't deserve these." Castiel brushed his thumb against Dean's cheek, wiping away the single tear that had started. He instantly realised the intimacy of the gesture, and drew away his hand in part alarm, his voice in a stutter. "I mean, it's not your fault. You disappointed n-no one, Dean. Just, calm down. You're drunk and you're over thinking it."

"I'm over thinking? I barely ever think."

"Dean, don't let that crap get to you." Castiel was holding Dean now, as his head slumped heavily on Castiel's shoulder. "It's not true. You're intelligent-"

"In a different sense? Yeah, I know. In the dumbass sense." 

"Are you kidding me? I know that you're intelligent in the conventional sense, as well! And just as amazing a guy-"

"More like useless."

"You're not useless!"

"I'm useless and detested."

Castiel felt tears prick his own eyes as he felt the determination in Dean's words that it was the truth, and he pulled Dean in even closer, unthinking of the barely-there distance between them. "Where's the Dean Winchester who romps on the football fields with a quick tongue and a swagger, and scores the winning goal for the team, and then drives around the parking lot with a grin to make infinity signs with the tire marks to show his awesomeness quotient?" Castiel delved into one of his fondest memories with Dean. "Where's the Dean Winchester I know and lo-" Castiel broke off in the middle of the word. Dean didn't notice.

"I'm a stupid asshole, Cas. Why are you putting up with me? You don't need to waste your words on me. I'll be fine in a minute. It only takes my brain a second to deal with these thoughts. I'll be back to smiling in no time." 

"You don't need to." Castiel protested. "Dean, you don't need to smile for me, as I've told you before. But you don't need to mope around as well. Can you just...do neither?"

"What do I do otherwise?" Dean lifted his head, and faced Castiel with wide readable eyes.

"Don't think about it." Castiel bit his lip. "We can sort it out later, when you're in a better place."

"This is my place." Dean scoffed. Castiel stared at him thoughtfully. Dean relented. "And, we?"

"Don't ask stupid questions." Castiel smiled.

"Cas, I know I told you that I wasn't here for those reasons, and just to see you, remind you that I exist, and tell you that I miss you; but can I also be here a little bit because I wanted to kiss you at one in the night?"

"A little bit?" Castiel repeated, feeling blown away by the subtle confession. He couldn't imagine the feeling it gave his heart.

"I don't want to tell you the answer to that, because I'm afraid you'll think my affection for you is purely physical. I didn't want you to be angry at me for not picking up your call; and I couldn't bear to have disappointed another person I care about.

Castiel swallowed. "You wouldn't have disappointed me, whatever you did."

"This might be the moment to tell you that I met with Lisa. My ex." Dean said, his expression not changing.

For an instance, Castiel had his heart in his mouth. "You two got back together-"

"Have you been listening to a word I've been saying?" Dean said, expressionlessly. "Why would I? We had coffee together, and nothing more. I just didn't want you hearing of it from another source and being possessive."

"Possessive?"

"You aren't supposed to be jealous, you know that, right? I'm your boyfriend. I like you more than I ever anticipated. You're supposed to be downright possessive and forbid me from meeting any pretty girls anymore. I won't listen, of course, and meaninglessly flirt nonetheless, and we could have a really-short fight regarding it, and top it off with a make-up make out session."

"Dean..."

"You sound really enchanting at one forty seven in the morning." Dean checked his watch. "I made up a figure without thinking of the clocks present in this room, didn't I?"

"Yeah." Castiel's voice was blocked in his throat.

"Okay, you know what?" Dean's drunkenness seemed to have worn off considerably. "As I was saying, the six messages I left you on your mobile and the seventeen emails I sent you since, will confirm that I did mean all that I told you.  But, yeah, I did wanna meet you in person to kiss you at one in the night."

"You didn't send me any text messages."

"I told you that I never would. I never will."

Castiel gaped at Dean, who suddenly looked like what Castiel had been looking for his whole life. With his arm around Dean, their lips inches away, saying those words to each other, it felt perfect. 

"Not that it's not fun, but how much longer do we have to continue the intense-foreplay-leading-up-to-the-kiss?"

"I'm sorry, is that a flirtation?"

"What else can that be mistaken for?"

"Sarcasm?"

"Sassing you about kissing you? Why would I do that to myself?"

"You know, we missed a create deal of moments during that conversation, when it would've been perfect for us to kiss."

"Well, let's create our moment, again. May I kiss you on the lips, Castiel Novak?"

"You may." 

The both of them leaned in, and with their lips almost caressing each other, Dean whispered, "With tongue?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"For too long?"

"For too long." Castiel agreed, as the two of them pressed their lips against each other, familiarly yet eagerly. Dean still smelt slightly of alcohol, but Castiel didn't mind; he was sure he smelt just as bad with too-early-morning-breath. Dean pulled, pulled, pulled Castiel closer, until Castiel's hands were no longer around Dean's, and had dropped to his side, as their chests pressed against each other, and Dean's hand was around Castiel's neck. 

Dean had decided to maneuver the kiss to get his own way, and within minutes, Castiel had been pushed back on the bed, with Dean's lips still against his, passionate yet affectionate, and Dean's eyes were closed, and his hands grabbed onto fistfuls of Castiel's shirt and occasionally the bedsheets, and Castiel merely let it happen, losing himself in the feeling of overwhelming ecstasy; of Dean Winchester.

When they finally pulled away, breathless, Dean was too tired to move; the entire day, and the alcohol having taken a toll on him. Castiel wordlessly pulled his blanket over Dean, and whispered to him that he was going off to a guest room to sleep and that Dean could sleep in Castiel's room tonight. Dean had merely groaned in response.

And after a 'goodnight' kiss which was ironic in every sense, since it wasn't night anymore, and they'd just been doing that; Castiel picked up his favourite pillow from the floor - Dean had tossed it away in lieu with his jeans when he'd sleepily sat half-up and forced the denim off of him - and walked out of his room in a dazed state. Had he been angry a little while ago? 

Because now, all he was, was even more drastically falling in love with Dean. 

And there was an awfully little way to go now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it?
> 
> As you may see, we're nearing the end!!!
> 
> Sorry for the late update! I'll try to do the next one better <3


	6. "And I on the other hand, live for red shirts with Snoopy and Charlie Brown on them."

When Castiel woke in the morning, his first thought was to check up on Dean. 

A close second, was of how the bed in the guest room, was more comfortable than his own; and how he'd slept better than ever before.

And the third, which hit him like a brick and woke him entirely, was that Dean Winchester had spent the night in Paradise, in Castiel's house, and slept in Castiel's room, on Castiel's bed, after an intimate discussion at one in the night, followed by kisses and contact which Castiel felt himself stiffen on remembrance.

Castiel scrambled out of his bed, and glanced at himself in the mirror, as he tried to straighten out his hair, before walking straight to his own room. No one else was up yet - Gabriel slept till the brink of getting late for school and often beyond; Charles wasn't a morning person - so Castiel wondered if he should knock. But then he realised, that Dean was probably sleeping too, so knocking might not be that intelligent an option after all

Slowly, he turned the knob, and walked into his own room carefully, to see it just as he'd left it the night before. He shut the door with just as much caution to not make noise, and locked it to prevent a certain nosy brother who might wake up looking for an early morning bed-dessert. A pillow had been flung on the floor, but everything else seemed to be just in place. Dean's grey jeans were draped over Castiel's study-chair, and his over shirt was lying exactly where Castiel had thrown it last night, during their kiss, in a hurry to get rid of it for some reason unknown now to Castiel's flustered brain, but invaluable to Castiel's thoughtless brain of last night.

Dean himself, slept completely on one side of the bed, as if he were used to sleeping on single-beds. A whole another person could've fit beside him, comfortably, with space to spare, Castiel noted irrelevantly. He was curled up completely, making a lump half of his size under the blanket, and he had his right arm thrown on a pillow, where his periodically twitching fingers gave evidence of his heavy breathing. His face was, otherwise, the only part of him which was visible, and his mouth was hanging open slightly, his eyes half-closed and a completely serene expression on his face. The bags under his eyes, were no more. And Castiel was sure that when Dean opened his eyes, his eyes would once again have the ability to steadily stare, instead of flicker, flit and flirt.

Castiel considered the merits of his next action, before committing it. Waking Dean would mean that Dean could get dressed, and the then Castiel could get dressed and the two of them could go on downstairs and pretend as though Dean had only arrived in the morning, before they left for school. Plus, Castiel might get to continue some of last night's events - not the kissing, but the talking. He'd required it, after going to bed with an angry head, and he was going to tell Dean the truth of his feelings regarding Lisa because Dean had been quite brazenly truthful last night. Recalling it made Castiel's cheeks warm. Dean had said quite a lot of things in a drunken state, which'd mean a lot were they true.

"Dean!" He whispered, reaching out his hand to wake Dean. "Dean! Wake up! Dean!"

All of a sudden, after the first few tries having extracted no result at all, on the fourth time of his name being called, Dean awoke with a jerk. His eyes shot open, blinking to get adjusted to the sunlight which entered through the curtains, and to the shadow of Castiel's figure over his person. He meandered in confused expressions for a long moment, before sitting upright suddenly; his eyes giving away his mind's state of wake. 

"Cas," he muttered meaninglessly, stretching, and yawning in the next instant. 

Castiel blinked, as he observed the yawn, which seemed to dismantle his name into a single-syllabled grunt. "Dean." He greeted back, seeing no requirement of anything in addition to it.

"Am I- this is your place - I'm in your room!?" Dean suddenly recoiled, as if it only just occurred to him. His eyes were wide, as he looked down at himself. He was still wearing his crew-neck. "Did I - did we-"

Castiel interrupted, immediately grasping what it was leading to. "No! No. No, we did not - No." Castiel felt a shiver run up his back, as he immediately stood up. "You just..slept here."

Dean slapped his hand to his forehead, before moving it down his face, in part frustration. "Cas, I'm sorry for whatever I did last night." He groaned out loud, as he edged towards the side of the bed, in an effort to stand up. "I must've done something extra weird because my head barely hurts and my hangovers are usually in indirect proportion to the asshole-ity of my actions when I'm drunk."

Castiel pursed his lips. "You didn't do anything..particularly asshole-y." He gauged. "It was routine Dean-Winchester-behavior with a little more words than usual." That was supposed to be comforting.

"Well then, I'm sorry for whatever I said." Dean continued to shift towards the side of the bed; a challenging task because he was half-wrapped up, half-entangled in the blankets, and there was an excess of pillows on the bed. Dean suddenly smirked. "The out-of-bed look works for you, though." He gestured to Castiel's hair.

"Forget about it," Castiel murmured darkly, trying and once again failing to straighten his hair. "I've tried and failed."

"Hey, I said it looks good." Dean protested. "I wasn't being sarcastic. I'd never be sarcastic about something so-"

"-if you use 'divine' as an adjective for my freaking hair again, I swear-"

"Divine, as your hair." Dean completed, grinning like an idiot.

"Dean!" Castiel groaned; Dean always used the weirdest words to describe him. I mean, he could live with being complimented, but having his smile called 'ethereal' and his hair 'divine' was something he couldn't put up with.

"Hey," Dean grinned, his face lighting up mischievously, as his eyebrows rose to brush his hairline. "Now that reminds me something from last night." He gestured at Castiel with finger-guns in a very mature way, referring to Castiel's 'Dean'. "I wonder why!?"

Castiel shook his head, rolling his eyes at the awakening of the familiar insufferable innuendo-filled-Dean. 

"So, now that I do remember how the night ended," Dean smirked, finally stepping down from the bed, ending his crawl-to-destination, and standing up, with his hands on his hips. "Wanna finish what we started?"

Castiel was about to retort with a sarcastic comment to hide his actual emotions to that sentence, when with a sudden plop, the covers fell off from over him. Instantly, he felt himself stiffen, as his cheeks flared red, and he turned away his head, biting his lip. Dean only had boxers on, at that point.

And with a almost jolt, both of them seemed to realise that Dean Winchester was in Castiel's room, half-naked after spending a night sleeping in his bed. Dean fumbled back onto the bed, and pulled the covers over himself, and Castiel cleared his throat, as he turned his head back when Dean gave him the thumbs-up for decency.

"Sorry, I-I was feeling pretty light, but I thought it was some lingering alcohol in my system, and not absence of pants.." Dean muttered, embarrassedly, and Castiel had to fight with his nervous system in order to not smile.

"It's fine." Castiel answered, bravely, in the most unaffected tone he could manage. "Yo-you should get ready for school, though."

Dean groaned out loud, his deep baritone reminding Castiel something of last night. His ears reddened obligatorily, and he cleared his throat once more. "Could you help me find the rest of my clothes?"

"They're all..here." Castiel gestured awkwardly, around his bedroom, where Dean's socks, shoes, pants, jacket and over shirt, were thrown on the floor.

"We had a good time yesterday, I suppose." Dean admitted, as he reached out to get one of his socks, and begun to pull in on.

"We talked quite a bit, at one forty seven in the night." Castiel snorted, suddenly remembering Dean's weird quirk for precise timing, at the unearthly hour.

"Oh, I was doing that again?" Dean scowled. "It's kinda one of my drunk things." He scrunched his nose, as he thought some more. "It usually goes along with blabbering a lot and not meaning much of what I say."

"Okay." Castiel's smile dropped, instantly.

Dean, noticed it in time. "Cas, what did I say to you?"

"Nothing of import." He smiled back, tightly.

"Did we talk about.." His voice trailed off. "I seem to remember talking about time, and that's about it. What else did I bore you about?"

"The situation, from yesterday." Castiel replied, quietly.

Dean breathed out, noisily. "Sorry for shoving my business in your face."

"That's not something you'll have to write me an apology note for. You can shove your business in my face, Dean; we're friends."

"Yeah." Dean's smile lit up his face. "We are. Anything else?"

"We talked for a little while about you never texting me."

"Yeah, I said I'd never do that. I don't go back on my word like that."

"You said that last night, too."

"And, nothing else?" Dean pestered, looking at Castiel suspiciously.

"Why, do you remember something?" Castiel countered.

"Not in the very least, as of now, anyways. But I don't trust drunk-me an ounce. It has a reputation of messing things up."

"By saying things you don't mean." Castiel added. "Yeah, Dean, I got it."

"Are you always irritated in the morning without a coffee, or am I getting special treatment because I was the reason you couldn't sleep in your room?" There was a playful smile on his lips, but his eyes shone as though he didn't wish to continue a bicker as this, so early in the morning. The effort impressed Castiel, and he played through.

"Are you offering?"

"If I could get my hands on my pants without flashing you again, I could be."

Castiel handed Dean's jeans to him, with a hint of teasing smirk on his face. "So, now, you are making me coffee, since I'm most certainly accepting."

"Okay, but I need a 'Kiss the Chef' apron." Dean winked back.

"Do you absolutely need it?" Castiel grinned.

"I'm afraid so." He chuckled.

"Well then, fetch it yourself from Gabriel's room. I'm not going in there again."

"That bad?" He lifted his chin.

"I have nightmares of it, after I'm done lying in my bed awake thinking about it." Castiel added dramatically, for effects.

"Hard pass, then." He laughed back.

"Wise choice." Castiel agreed, beginning to exit the room. "Okay, Dean, that's the bathroom. Get ready, and then meet me downstairs in the dining room."

"You're making me breakfast, Cas?" Dean cooed, batting his eyelashes, and looking cuter than he was supposed to, when he acted like a little kid. "I like pie. And eggs and bacon. And bread and cheese."

"What is this, Enid Blyton's Famous Five, with that kind of a breakfast? You make me coffee, and that's all the breakfast we have."

"I know, right? What was the matter with those four? Who eats so much healthy stuff as a kid?" Dean sympathised, impressing Castiel with his knowledge about a kid series. "Also, now I see why you don't need to gym to look like that." He waved his hand in the air, gesturing at Castiel, who straightened his back, out of instinct.

"It's got more to do with laziness and an inexistent cooking skill set, rather than high metabolism due to athleticism and green tea. That's a nerd-secret I'm entrusting you with." Dean snorted, and Castiel felt himself smiling in return. "And, now we're back to the coffee."

"It's a good thing I know what kind of coffee you like, right?" Dean grinned. "That first date paid off in more ways than I'd expected. Who thought I'd be making you coffee in the morning, so soon, without you even putting out?"

"I also like my coffee ready when I meet it downstairs in fifteen minutes." Castiel instructed, ignoring Dean's clever comment.

"Bossing me, this early in the day, looking like that? You're not helping with my morning wood." Dean laughed.

Castiel tried hard to mask his surprise at the casual reference. "Okay."

"'Okay'? No sarcastic response that'll set me thinking on how I can better it?" Dean challenged.

"Unpredictability is the key to intriguity." He said, promptly.

"I'm gonna believe that that's a word only because you said it."

Castiel grinned. "So you're saying, you believe every word I say?"

"I believe every word you say, exists in the Oxford Dictionary, is what I'm saying." Dean mirrored.

"Instant recovery." Castiel forgot all about the things weighing on his mind, as he laughed alongside Dean.

"What can I say? I got lots of stamina." Dean chided back.

"More like, experience in losing a word-duel with the guy whose bed you slept in, in which, as a matter of fact, he was not even properly awake?" Castiel pretended to toss his head proudly, and ended up extracting a snort of laughter from Dean.

"You're as awake as you are in freaking History class, when you're gobbling up every word the teacher says, and, by the way, word-duelling with you?" Dean flattered. "That's harder than I expected."

"And, that's what he said." Castiel replied, feeling a need to pat himself on the back if he could, not only because that was a freaking good line for the moment, but also because Dean was suddenly looking at him like he'd asked him to marry him, with his green eyes dancing excitedly as he kept them steady on Castiel's blue ones. 

A moment later, he finally stopped staring, and raised his hand in the air, with a giant smile on his face, which filled his entire face, and compelled Castiel to reply with one. "Dude! Dude, high-five me! You're fucking awesome!"

Castiel laughed, enjoying the full and adoring attention of Dean Winchester's gorgeous eyes on his movement, and forgetting all that he'd suddenly worried about. "I'll not disagree to that, because Morning-me can be pretty awesome."

"Could it be because you woke up on the perfect side of not-your bed?" Dean smirked.

"Don't smirk, Dean." Castiel retorted, squinting, refusing to mention the fact that he'd somehow slept heavenly well, in not-his bed. "You're the reason I didn't get to sleep in my bed."

"Well, you could've slept next to me. What were you, afraid that I'd be too irresistible?" Dean flexed to prove his point, his biceps visible through the layers still. His shirt hitched up his chest as he did so, leaving Castiel a fleeting glimpse of bare skin near his waist, and Castiel looked up too soon for it to have not left an image on him. 

"No, Dean, you look like a sleep-kicker who probably snores."

"Instant recovery," Dean copied, from before. "And I sleep like a log, and certainly don't snore. I hate you for saying that."

"You're still making me coffee."

"And I'm back to adoring you."

"There's no possibility of anything getting you out of making coffee for me, just saying."

"Man, Morning-Cas is perfect! He's way more awesome, and has me on my feet to reply something just as good, always." Dean said, in a singsong voice, supposedly to himself, as he pulled on his overshirt. "Plus, he has divine hair," he snickered. "And an even better straight face than All-day-otherwise-Cas does."

"And I like Drunk Dean. He's way more vocal with what he's really feeling, and says the most adorably innocent things." Castiel replied, imitating Dean, and closing his eyes as he sarcastically drawled. "Plus, he has an irresistible smolder, and an even greater tendency to not mean things he says."

"Wait, what!?"

"What?" Castiel immediately realised what he'd said, and his eyes widened like saucepans. "What?"

"Cas, what the hell did I tell you last night that you now think I don't mean?" Dean asked, in a serious voice.

"You said things," Castiel finally gave in. "About Lisa Braeden."

"Yeah, I met with her yesterday." Dean pursed his lips. "We had coffee, and that was it. I wanted to tell you because I didn't want you," he continued, looking sheepish. "Hearing it from another source and feeling offended, or possessive."

Castiel's jaw dropped. "Possessive?" He repeated, not believing his ears.

"Yeah, you do know you don't be jealous, but possessive over me, now, don't you?" Dean smiled slightly. "I mean, we're dating, and I am crazy about you, so you're gonna have to be freaking possessive about me now! You'll forbid me from flirting with pretty girls or guys, and I'll meaningless continue to do so, because I'm me, and then we'll have a little fight about it; but only a little one. Maybe we can make up by making out."

Castiel's mouth was still open. Dean had just said everything he'd said last night. And he didn't remember a thing of it. Which meant..he'd meant it. He'd meant it. 

"So, what did I say about her?"

Castiel ignored that question, suddenly finding Dean's little frown even more endearing than always. Irregardless of his brain saying against it, he walked towards him, and prepping a knee on the bed, and cupping Dean's face in his hands, he pulled it upwards, and leaned in to kiss him.

Dean responded spontaneously, his hands pulling Castiel further low, to make their lips meet better. Soon, Castiel had opened his mouth to Dean's prodding tongue, and as Dean nibbled on his upper lip, he let himself melt into the kiss.

Jesus Christ. No one had ever kissed him like that. Like he was theirs, and like he was everything they ever wanted. Castiel may have initiated the kiss because of his inability to control his ecstasy, but Dean was in control now, and as his tongue moved sinfully against Castiel's lip, Castiel felt sparks he'd never felt before.

He closed his eyes, as he finally pulled apart, parting with a soft, lingering kiss to Dean's bowlike lips. He licked his own lips, as he opened his eyes a moment later, to find Dean looking at him fondly.

"I realised I didn't say Good Morning." Castiel muttered, wondering why he'd for a fleeting moment thought that would sound like a valid excuse.

"Morning, Sunshine." Dean grinned back, effortlessly, leaning back on the bed. "May I ask why I got kissed so wonderfully and without any foreplay, in the middle of a serious discussion?"

"Seven thirty eight is not the time for a serious discussion." Castiel's unexpected happiness almost leaked through his smile. "I just wanted to. I knew, from experience, that it's fun."

Dean smiled. "Anytime you want, again, just know I'm willing."

"You know what? So am I." Castiel promised, breathing out, as he stared at Dean's beautiful green eyes, like he loved to do. He'd not gotten a chance lately, because Dean's lips had kept him busy for awhile there, but once again, peering at his clear eyes, gave Castiel butterflies in his tummy. Not the uncomfortable kind. Just the...fluttery kind.

"Anytime?"

"If you want to kiss me again, I want to be sitting down."

"When was there ever an 'If' in such a statement from my lips?"

"Fine." Castiel didn't even protest, enjoying how Dean looked at him like he hung the moon. It was most flattering, because Dean himself looked freakishly good for just having woken up, and Castiel envied the messy bedhair look he rocked, and how he looked - for some reason unknown to him - more, at comfort, and hence, the easy smile which followed. His favourite smile, on Dean Winchester. "Let me sit down, then."

"And school?" Dean teased, as the two of their lips came close to touching, again. "And, your family? And my pants?"

"You want to make me coffee that bad?"

"I just wanted you to look at me that way - yeah, exactly like that - before I kiss you, that bad."

"Don't say things like that, in moments like this, Dean."

"Okay, I'll just shut up and kiss you, Cas."

***

"Okay, dude, calm down!" Dean put his hand on Castiel's back, conjuring up as much drama as he could. "I'll take care of it, you can go in and do your thing, without worrying about it." Somehow, he managed to get his eyes watery; Castiel rolled his eyes. "You deserve a moment's rest from this burden, Cas, and I'm here to relieve you of it! I promise it'll stay in nothing but safety, and in my arms!"

"That's my trenchcoat you're talking of." Castiel repeated, enjoying the commotion Dean was creating in front of the Men's Changing room, way more than earlier-him would've. "One, which Gabriel said and I quote, 'Abraham Lincoln and Christopher Columbus owned before me, and I sport like a doormat which doesn't wear off'."

"You have such an awesome memory." Dean batted his eyelashes back.

Castiel could've snorted, at the ridiculousness of Dean's regular compliments, for no reasons. "My point was that, you may be attached to inanimate objects, with human-like traits you provide them, but I'm not. And you don't need to treat my trenchcoat like you'd treat a dog my grandma left me in her will, or a son I raise singlehandedly."

Dean raised a finger, squinting. "Don't call my Baby an object again, you good-looking dumb-ass, or I'll not let you ride her, and you'll have to walk places." Castiel laughed out loud, at this, because he knew Dean meant it in the most endearing sense of the expletive. "And, you clearly are in denial about your feelings for your trenchcoat!"

Castiel shook his head, forcing down a smile, which sparked up at Dean's silly smile channelled at him. "Denial-"

"Is unhealthy." Dean completed. "You should accept that you're emotionally connected to that trenchcoat. Everyone can see it. Why refuse to accept a truth, just because it embarrasses you?"

"So, you think I'm emotionally connected to my overcoat?"

"I think that you're so emotionally connected to your overcoat that were the trenchcoat to get torn, you'd conduct a hunter's funeral and memoriam in it's fond memory, after you've done your best to retrieve it, and shed buckets of tears about your loss."

"I hate how you can speak so much crap that it ends up making sense."

"It's one of my only virtues." Dean winked. "In the words of Rihanna, 'Fake it till you make it'!"

Castiel bit his lip, letting out a long-suppressed smile. "I still don't think shopping is the best way to spend a Sunday, though." He tilted his head. "We could've gone to watch Infinity Wars."

"Please." Dean smirked back. "Fifty Shades of Grey could be the tagline for your wardrobe." He snickered, at his own joke. "And, how many times exactly do you watch Infinity Wars before you've had enough of it?"

"I wouldn't know." Castiel said, truthfully. "I'm not even close to that emotion yet."

"I always knew you were a nerd, but you're also a fandom-nerd nowadays!" Dean teased. "The gift that keeps on giving."

"You say it like that's a bad thing." Castiel squinted.

"Oh, no! It's adorable, that you still have watery eyes, even within the first quarter of the movie!" Castiel looked at him indignantly, and Dean added, with a low whistle. "I never thought I'd say this aloud, but you looking at me annoyedly after I tease you for being such a Marvel-nerd, is cheesy as shit, and I still want to kiss you on the lips when you do so."

Castiel blinked, as Dean's hand slipped lower, to the small of Castiel's back, and pulls him against himself. "You saying that is cheesy as shit, too." He pointed out, enjoying the closeness for what it was worth - there weren't too many people around.

"Promise not to think of how cheesy it is, as I kiss you?"

"Promise not to think of how cheesy it is, as I kiss you back." Castiel let out, before Dean softly pressed his lips to Castiel's. It was a familiar feeling now, but it still made Castiel feel like he was floating in midair, because Dean often kissed him like he was afraid Castiel would pull apart, and was somehow convincing him, with his playful experienced touch, to stay. Needless to say, Castiel was always convinced the moment, Dean's soft lips touched his, and fit perfectly over them as he seized Castiel's full attention, not even allowing his mind to meander anywhere else, but away from them, together. Even the way Dean Winchester looked at him, after the kiss was unforgettable.

"Is this enough foreplay, before you go wear these?" Dean murmured, after they'd pulled apart, and were basking in silence; holding up the basket filled with shirts, he was holding.

"You say it like that's a bad thing." Castiel repeated, pushing Dean away from him.

"You're deflecting, now, and not even doing it well." He thrust the basket into Castiel's palm, and folded up his trenchcoat, draping it over an arm. 

"This is stupid." Castiel looked down at the stuff the basket contained. "There's colors like a clown, in here. My wardrobe's perfectly fine."

"I saw it, after my nightstay, about a week ago, and I still think of it late at night. And, also, are you trying to earn yourself the 'you're not goth, stop dressing like one - you're a nerd, dress like that' lecture?" Dean asked solemnly, raising his eyebrows.

"You're such a stickler for Disney-movie stereotypes." Castiel laughed.

"I can be Orthodoxical that way." Dean replied, sarcastically. "But seriously, dude! You may rock each one of those - but that doesn't mean you can walk around in the same colours everyday!"

"You wear that canvas jacket a lot." Castiel remarked, as a last resort.

"Did I say a word about your trenchcoat?"

"I hate bickering with you."

"Yeah, because I always win."

"You barely ever scratch the surface of the plane over which lies victory, bragging rights, and my residence."

"You saying things like that gets me all tingly." Dean chuckled, obviously impressed. "Ever done it in a changing room at Marks and Spencers before?" Dean gestured.

"You know the answer to that, and the question which you're gonna follow that up with." Castiel pursed his lips, his eyes crinkling up.

"Good thing that the rooms here are the perfect size, then." Dean immediately begun to strut towards the first room, before Castiel grabbed him by his sleeve, and pulled him back to where he was.

"Exceedingly intelligent." Castiel frowns, imitating Dean's impressed look. "Now, as I go in there alone to change into one of these, why don't you change into one of the stuff I picked for you?"

"Me?" Dean raised his hands, in defense. "You picked out nothing for me."

"You put it back when I turned my back, didn't you?"

"I might've." Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well, obviously, I'm not gonna be the only one to go in there, and then come out and show myself to you, like a kid, while you sit out here waiting for me, on the parent chair!" Castiel raised his eyebrow.

"Okay, now that you said it, it sounds weird." Dean frowned. "I could go around choosing more stuff for you." He tried, instantly.

"Don't push it." Castiel made a face at Dean, which Dean responded to, with a smile. "Just try one of those." He pointed to a rack of shorts, with a mischievous grin.

"I don't do shorts." Dean recoiled.

"And, I, on the other hand, live for red sweatshirts with Snoopy and Charlie Brown on them."

"The sarcasm is strong with this one." Dean announced, to no one in particular. Several guys and girls from around, look over nonetheless, regarding the couple standing ridiculously close together with a raised eyebrow and grin. Dean looked back at Castiel, tilting his head downwards. "Also, if you wanna see my legs, again, you can just ask."

"I know that." Castiel retorted, smartly. "And, I also know, that if I ask even one more time, you'd try out red shorts."

"You're literally boasting of having me wrapped around your finger? So soon? And here I thought, we were trying for not cliché!?" Dean gasped, dramatically. And then, in a more normal tone, he added. "And, yeah, if you asked nicely, I guess I would."

"Hey, Dean," Castiel drawled, grinning like an idiot. "Remind me again, how do we ask someone nicely?"

"Ah, I do it once every day." Dean pretentiously rolled his eyes. "You hold me," Castiel circled his arm around Dean's middle. "You lean in." Castiel pulled himself up to his full height, and edged towards Dean. "And then you ask, in a whisper, while you look at my l-"

"I remember." Castiel cut him off, as he cheesily leaned in a bit more, and breathed out a, "Try out shorts, Dean." In the most lighthearted tone he could conjure up, before he burst out laughing. Dean laughed right out of his grip.

"You're fucking perfect." Dean pecked him on the skin right next to his lips, before dragging him along with him into one of the rooms, before Castiel laughingly shoved him away and walked into the one next.

Castiel knew it sounded sappy, and inexpressibly unlike him, but it was true.

Even shopping with Dean Winchester was an enjoyable experience.

He was so screwed.

***

A couple Sundays later, when Castiel was in his bedroom in flannel pyjamas and a white t-shirt, going though his History Assignment on Pearl Harbour for the final time, a knock announced Gabriel in.

"Hi, brother!" He greeted as he strutted in, in a pretentious accent, which was probably French and Russian at the same time, because he rolled the R's and ended each consonant with a drawl, like Gina, the cheetah, did in his favourite - third - Madagascar movie. "You have visitors!"

Castiel stood up, glancing at the clock, both of whose hands were at 8, more or less. "It's before nine." He pointed out. And then let out a knowing sigh, of emotionless anticipation. "It's Dean, isn't it?"

"The only guy who made it to your house before nine." Gabriel cheekily grinned, as he followed Castiel out of his room, and down the stairs, as the latter walked lazily towards the door. "Although, technically, he made it to your house after midnight, so this is but a step down." Castiel, startled, turned to face Gabriel, mid step. Gabriel shrugged, his eyebrows raised, his eyes twinkling. "Uh-uh, that's right, I knew!"

"How?" Castiel muttered, disappointed that his secret had, after all, not been kept so well.

"He passed me on the fire escape, when I was on my way out." Gabriel said, seriously. "You know, to T.P. Becky Rosen's house."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Grow up." He chastised his older brother, and opened the door to the parlour, where Gabriel - being Gabriel - had made Dean wait, even as he pushed a nosy Gabriel away from his heel.

Dean sat there, completely dressed in a pale blue hoodie, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and metal green jeans. His hair looked elaborately messed up, only to add to the casualness of his attire, in clear contrast to the expectant and carefully hopeful look on his face. He stood up, when Castiel walked in, and leaned in, to peck him on the lips, before sitting back down. "Hey."

Castiel, hoping he looked lesser flustered than he felt, sat down on a settee opposite Dean's, and unmeaningfully licked his lips. "Hello, Dean." He replied, formally for a guy in pyjamas. "What are you doing here?"

"Gabriel brought me here, when he went to fetch you." Dean answered, looking a bit sheepish. "I have been to Paradise several times, but this is the first time I've been brought in to the parlour. I didn't even know you had a parlour, Cas."

"I know, quite 1980s in United Kingdom; I know." Castiel shyly shook his head. "This is a meeting room for important guests. Gabriel just placed you in the same cadre as the Interviewer from Reader's Digest, and, well, everyone who was a part of Gabe's election campaign and cheering squad when he stood for the Student Council."

"I'm honored." Dean smiled, back.

"So, what did you need?" Castiel repeated, hoping this time, Dean would catch the drift.

"Yeah, about that," Dean looked down at the floor. "I, sort of, wanted to ask you for a favour."

"Yeah?" Castiel nodded his head, wondering what Dean might need.

"I kind of, wanted to borrow you for the day." Dean let out, biting his lip, as he did when he was slightly embarrassed. "It's kinda stupid, but I want you to come with me to the movies."

"Am I gonna be a prop in a grand scheme, which you know of because you're a Spy Kid, and can't tell me straight about, because it might endanger our lives?"

"Okay, you've officially started to talk like me." Dean grinned broadly. "But, no. That wouldn't be stupid; that'd be awesome. I said this was stupid."

"Asking me out to watch a movie isn't that stupid," Castiel offered. "Except we've watched all the good ones, which premiered this month."

Dean grinned. "And except I'm asking you to watch five movies with me."

"Five movies?" Castiel let out a chuckle. "Desperate much?"

"Long story short, me and Sammy lost a bet." Dean raised a finger, as an unappreciative look came upon his face. "Against Adam. So, now, he has to spend the entire day at a Starbucks, and I have to spend the whole of it, at the theatre."

"Twenty four hours?" Castiel repeated, disbelievingly.

"Till midnight, tonight." Dean corrected. "Although, I've gotta add, he let us go easy for what I told him he'd have to do if he lost." He laughed, in remembrance. "So, the gist of it is that, I have to spend the whole day today strictly at the theatre, but as I'd previously decided I'd take you down to the Bunker today, and that isn't possible, I just came to ask you if you'd be interested in spending all of today with me, at the movies."

Castiel sighed. "What'd we watch?"

"That, you get to decide, if you agree to accompany me on this stupid deal." Dean offered, brightly.

"It's more hilarious, than it's stupid." Castiel shrugged. "The older brothers losing a silly bet to the youngest one." He added, the giant smile on his face still plastered there, to ensure that Dean doesn't take it in the wrong sense. 

"It's also sweet," Dean added. "That I came to ask you to come with, isn't it?"

"You just don't want to get bored." Castiel pointed out.

"And I also think if you're with me, I wouldn't be!" Dean beamed. "Now, that's sweet, isn't it?"

"You're so desperate to be sweet, that it's sweet." Castiel sighed. "Fine, I'm in."

"That was easy." Dean joked, winking. "I had no idea you'd be that easy," Dean paused, purposefully, to cough. "To convince, I mean."

"Trust me, getting into my pants is way harder a task than getting me into a multiplex, as I've no doubt, you've learnt from personal experience." Castiel replied, highhandedly, making Dean burst out laughing.

"That's a lowly blow to my self-esteem, Cas, but I'll live." He replied, within gasps of breath. "So, get out of pyjamas, I guess?"

"Why, we are spending half the night there, aren't we?" Castiel replied, squinting at his own joke. 

"You don't wanna get too comfortable on those seats." Dean raised his eyebrows, pointedly. "Take it from someone with ex-perience." He drawled.

"That's worse of an innuendo, than I expected from you, Winchester." Castiel rolled his eyes.

"And, that's straighter of an insult, than is worthy of your famed wit." Dean replied mockingly. 

"I'll get into some more clothes," Castiel muttered to himself, and then out loud. "Don't wanna watch a movie from the middle, and the first show starts at nine, right?"

Dean nodded. "To buy snacks, and yeah, tickets, we'll want to be there by eight - fifty. Ten minutes, then. But you, Cas, may utilise the greater part of those minutes," he cleared his throat, proudly. "Because I was working on Baby yesterday, and she's ready to show-off."

"Her driver sure is." Castiel snided, walking out, and towards his room. 

"I'll be waiting for you in the parlour, Castiel." Dean yelled after him, making Castiel laugh, as he made his way up stairs.

It took him all of six minutes, to return to the parlour, in a collared grey T-shirt, and blue jeans, with his phone and wallet stuffed in his pockets, and a black jacket. Dean was leaning back, with a magazine in his hand, which he instantly put down when Castiel entered, and stood up, straightening the front of his hoodie. They both walked out of Paradise, after Castiel had yelled a 'Goodbye' to Gabriel who'd been too far away to reply, and were in Dean's car, within minutes. Dean turned the key, and the engine roared alive, and purred away as he drove towards the multiplex.

"So, Cosmos?" Castiel teased, a while later, after Led Zeppelin, who'd been filling all of the background, came to an end. "And don't even try Sports Illustrated, because we don't get that."

"Playboy." Dean winked, back. Castiel rolled his eyes, and Dean corrected himself, about a whole song later. "Week, actually. About, bees."

"You don't say?"

"Okay, The Bachelor."

"Fine."

"Okay. About a new Chevy car. But, don't make me say more, or Baby will get offended." Dean cajoled, stroking the dashboard of his car, affectionately. "Not like I could ever love another car over her, but she is a lady who doesn't like her status to be questioned."

"Okay."

And, it was not until they had purchased tickets to 'Rampage', and more-than-normal-amount-of-money worth of popcorn and Pepsi, and were seated in the last row of a bleakly-filled theatre, looking at the screen where the trailers were being shown, that Dean gave out an exasperated sigh, and hissed, "Okay, stop pretending as though you believe me. I was looking at a winter overcoat and muffler in Harper's Bazaar, and that's the truth!"

"I'm not mad, though you lied to me several times." Castiel whispered back, feeling a shiver of crimson on his cheeks, as Dean had annoyedly held his hand, at the end of his rant, and was holding it in place on his own thigh, with a little frown on his face. 

"Out of habit, I swear." Dean whispered back.

Castiel, feeling weak in his stomach now, because Dean's thumb was furiously brushing over the skin of his hand, whimpered out, "It's alright. This was fun."

"You think I'm cute?" Dean asked, now clearly joking.

"I think you're adorable." Castiel breathed out, imitating Dean's style of answering, almost every time a question on those lines, was posed to him.

"Can the next movie we watch be a really boring one," Dean pleaded, a beat later. "So that I have a valid reason to kiss you through most of it, and just talk to you all the while?"

"Sounds perfect," Castiel mumbled, and Dean leant in to lightly brush his lips against Castiel's barely-there stubble, before returning to his seat, Castiel's hand still entwined with his. The two of them talked only in the Interval, then.

The next movie they watched, after whiling away the twenty minute break between the two shows to refill the food and drinks, was Peter Rabbit. It turned out to be more interesting than you might've guessed, and they had a kick out of it, with Dean and Castiel sharing a bucket of caramel popcorn after Dean's fell on the floor. 

The one after that, was a romance, Midnight Sun, and quarterways through it, Dean slipped an arm around Castiel, and they didn't even move in the intermission, but talked through it. Most of the movie, they didn't even pay attention to, but since they were hungry by the end of it, and their legs felt like jelly due to inaction, they had Lunch at the theatre cafe, at three in the afternoon, and missed the first few minutes of their nth watch of Infinity Wars. 

They might've done a line-by-line of a lot of the scenes in that one, but it was with Dean prepped against Castiel's side, and Castiel's hand reaching around Dean, with a Sprite can in the other hand. They realised watching movies was a more tiring job than you'd suspect, after they dragged themselves out of that one, four movies revolving in bits in their minds, and their eyes accustomed to the dark. 

When they walked out of the fourth movie, Deadpool 2, though they'd seen it before, they were almost drowsy. "12 hours," Dean informed Castiel, who yawned as a response. Dean then stupidly walked into transparent glass when he went to take a leak, and Castiel kept up a conversation with Charlie, on the phone, to keep himself awake when Dean was in the ticket office, later. 

"Our fifth movie for the day," Dean almost groaned, as the two of them took their seats in the third-last row. "And, I'm gonna say it. Watching movies can become a chore, after the first ten hours."

"Hear, hear." Castiel muttered, almost collapsing on his seat, and leaning his head back on the headrest. 

"I'm sorry, but this was the only one we haven't seen already, today." Dean apologised, as the movie neared the intermission.

Castiel, close to lolling off, tilted his head a bit to look at Dean, on his right. didn't even register his words. It was a blessing that Dean was with him, because Castiel was most surely going to fall asleep. A part of him strained to keep his eyes open, but tired more than he could express, they begun to droop, and every muscle of his being begged him to let go of the last bit of self-control which was keeping him awake.

Finally, his vision blurred, and the screen was barred by his own eyelashes clouding his sight, and he slumped off, knowing he was falling asleep, and giving in to it, as he leaned heavily towards the left, and before he knew it, was completely out of his senses, even before he could get comfortable on Dean's shoulder which he was sleepily using as a pillow.

Suddenly, he felt a hand grab his collar, and tediously pull him straight, and to the right, until he'd begun to lean towards the right. More asleep than awake, his eyes barely open, he tried to get comfortable on the new shoulder he was offered, but it was bony and the hard, and uncomfortable. A sleepy Castiel tried to make do of it, before in slumbery exasperation, he sprang awake, and glared at the person whose shoulder he'd been using.

"Dean!" He gasped, and turned so quickly to his left, that it gave him a kink in the neck. On his left sat another guy, probably their very age, though Castiel hadn't ever seen him around, and with disgraceful horror, Castiel realised that he'd fallen asleep on the stranger's shoulder. "Oh! Oh, crap! I'm so sorry!"

"That's fine." The guy, with gelled hair, and in a trucker's jacket, smirked. "I liked having you there. My shoulder's always free for sleepy guys who happen to look like you do." 

Castiel blinked, confusedly, still only rarely awake, and weakly managed to shoot a smile back at the flirtation, before turning back to Dean, who had an angry look on his face, and a frown on his lips.

"Why don't we switch places, so that I can give that son of a bitch a piece of my mind?" He growled, through a clenched jaw, giving Castiel time to understand the situation.

"I fell asleep on his shoulder," he muttered, more to himself than as a reprimand directed at Dean. "And you pulled me away."

"Yeah, to my shoulder." Dean exaggeratedly rolled his eyes.

Castiel sleepily blushed. "Good." He mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

"Yeah, and the next time you do that, I'll do worse." Dean scowled, protectively.

"Like what?"

"A vice grip around your neck, after I'm done attacking your lips with mine, is what I'm thinking."

"That's a lie, and you never attack my lips." Castiel blinked, truthfully, awakening properly. "You are always very gentle, and perfect, and a great kisser." No, not properly awake, after all. He was still trying to activate the brain-to-mouth filter, and failing to do so.

"And you go to sleep on other guys."

"And you're unattractive when you're being jealous."

"And you're having an exceptionally bad case of bedhair, though I guess you earned it by falling asleep on the wrong guy."

"And I was lying earlier; you're still attractive when you're being jealous."

"And I wanna kiss you now. Fuck. You're sleeping, but I wanna be kissed back." Dean complained.

"I'm not sleeping."

"What movie are we watching?" Dean asked, as a test.

"What movie?" Castiel blinked, shakenly.

"Sleep, you maddeningly gorgeous jackass." Dean almost whined. "I'll live with my desires suppressed for another day."

"I'm not gonna fall asleep." Castiel swore, fixing his eyes on the screen.

"Yeah, okay, cherry-pie."

But, however that conversation might've went, the next time Castiel opened his eyes, he groggily looked at the credits, and the guy with a mop cleaning out the front seats of the movie theatre, and most of the theatre vacant. He discovered, a second later, that he had a lapful of Dean Winchester, whose own chair was pushed back to the maximum limit, and who was facing away from him - though his head was still too near his crotch for him to not shudder at the vile thoughts in his head - and he had his own right hand in Dean's hair, as if carding through his hair, when the both of them slept.

Instantly, he drew away his hand, and almost on cue, Dean grumbled awake. "I absolutely did not- Ahhh, Cas!" He straightened, as if electrocuted, and stood up, dropping the box of Chicken Wings wedged in the side of his chair. 

"Dean." Castiel yawned ginormously, standing up himself, his legs refusing to follow his brain's commands to the letter. "Can you drive us home?"

"I'm perfectly awake, so obviously, yes." Dean assured, his eyes opening properly, as the two of them trudged along to outside the theatre. "What even, was that last movie?"

"I slept through it." Castiel confessed.

"On another guy."

"For two seconds, before you pulled my head onto you." Castiel retorted, saying it louder than he'd intended to.

Dean stared at Castiel blankly for a second, before his entire face crinkled into a broad grin. "Yeah, and what about when you pulled my head onto you?"

"You dropped into my lap." Castiel defended.

"Not the best position, of comfort, to me, if you know what I mean!" Dean replied, with a smirk. "You, so clearly, pulled me into you, and my head not finding a grip on your shoulders, fell somewhere beneath!"

"I hate you."

"That's a leap back, then."

"Shut up." Castiel didn't even know why he did what he did next, but he draped a hand around Dean's middle - as Lisa had done, in the video - and pulled him up to him. Dean was broader than him, but Dean instantly draped his own arm around Castiel's back, and it was convenient to walk, again. "You know I don't mean it."

"When will you tell me that you love me, and mean it, Cas?" Dean almost complained, clearly more sleepy than Castiel, before he'd only just stumbled on a pebble as clear as day.

"I don't know." Castiel whispered back, truthfully. "Maybe, tomorrow."

"Okay." Dean almost sighed, happily. "I can make it to tomorrow."

"What if it's the day after tomorrow?"

"I can wait." Dean promised, as they walked up to the Impala. "You will, though, right? Sometime?"

"Don't ask stupid questions."

And he didn't even remember his words, in the morning. Nor did Dean, for that matter.

But he sure knew that he'd enjoyed holding Dean like that, or falling asleep on his shoulder, or the kissing, or having Dean sleeping on him. 

Why did Dean have to make it so easy to fall for him?

***

"Devilled eggs?"

"No, I'm good." Castiel smiled awkwardly, as his cousin Hael pulled away the tray that she'd shoved under his chin, for the fourth time. "Thank you, Hael."

"Of course, Castiel." Hael smiled back at him sweetly, before walking away to offer them to other family members of Castiel, as he leaned back into his couch, and watched everyone bustling around, with distracted interest. 

Every year, his family would gather for a combined celebration of Christmas and New-Year's-Eve, on New Year's Eve. Ever since Charles came upon his fortune, it was hosted at Paradise. All of Castiel's family was there, even fifth cousins, twice removed - Hael - or Aunt Amara, who hadn't been on talking terms with his Castiel's dad before he became famous, but now fawned over him, each year. Castiel wasn't that much of a stickler for family gatherings - he had reasons enough. Unnecessary to get into those.

"Blood?" 

"Thank you, I'd like that." Castiel grinned back at Gabriel, who handed him a red wine glass, and sat down next to him. It was eleven fifty, already. Castiel took a sip of it, and though it didn't run fiery down his throat or mess with his state of sobriety in the least, it made him travel back to the time when Dean had convinced him to go to a five-star French restaurant, and how Dean had behaved like a perfect gentleman all the way through. Well, right up until, after dessert, he'd laughed so hard, when Castiel had cracked a joke about The Breakfast Club, that he was left half-hanging from his chair, with the entire room staring at the impeccably-dressed and unbelievably-gorgeous hysterical young man.

"So, who're you gonna kiss?"

Castiel looked at Gabriel with unblinking wide eyes. "Why would I need to kiss someone?"

"Oh, come on!" Gabriel grinned, standing up, with his hands on his hips. "You've gotta kiss someone at midnight!"

"Well, I'm not going to." Castiel shook his head, definitely, standing up himself, because everyone was readying themselves for the final countdown. He had no thoughts of kissing anyone else, but Dean. No way, he was kissing anyone but Dean. It would definitely be amazing to start off a new year by kissing Dean Winchester, but the Winchesters had their own family-and-friends thing at the Roadhouse. There was no way that was happening. Castiel tried to sound not-sad. "That would be cheating on Dean."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "You're the New-Years Grinch, weirdo. Kissing is in the spirit of this day! I'm sure Dean-o would understand!"

Castiel breathed out tentatively. "I don't want to make him understand anything of the sort, Gabriel." He squinted. "And, what? You'll kiss someone at midnight, just like that?"

"Hell yeah!" Gabriel grinned. "I already hooked myself up with Uriel's girlfriend." Castiel glared at him exasperatedly. "Okay, before you get preachy and judgemental, she was going to dump him - for having a stick up his ass, classified information - anyways! At least this way, he can be the one dumping her for cheating, and he can walk out with an existent ego!"

Castiel couldn't believe he was related to Gabriel. "And, what about Sam?"

"Oh, Becky is at the Roadhouse," Gabriel snorted, because that girl was the terror of his existence. "She's gonna leap at Samshine at midnight, and I know it! I already talked to him though, and we agreed to be each other's first makeouts of the year." He winked exaggeratedly. 

Castiel bit his lip. "Well, Gabriel, I haven't talked to Dean about any such thing. And," he put down his emptied wine glass on a stand. "I don't wanna kiss anyone at midnight."

"I'm just saying, that Dean would understand." Gabriel shrugged, raising his hands in defense, at Castiel's kind of aggressive tone, and walking away, possibly to his brand new date for the midnight. Castiel was left, once again, looking around him, where couples had held hands - everyone in his family, was older than him, except for a few toddlers, who were a generation younger - and were watching the TV screen, where it showed that 12 o'clock was three minutes away.

Would Dean kiss someone at midnight? He was sure Dean would have no dearth of girls or guys wishing to kiss him at midnight. But there was a part of Castiel, which wondered if Dean would actually kiss someone. 'In the spirit of the moment', he wondered, as Gabriel had put it. Perhaps he would. Dean was way more casual about things like that, than Castiel. 

It would be a lie to say that Castiel didn't want to kiss Dean at midnight. Or that Dean kissing some other person at midnight wouldn't matter to him. But, they were at opposite ends of the city, nonetheless, and nothing could be done about that.

For a fleeting second, a stupid idea struck him, to go over to the Roadhouse at this hour, so that he could kiss Dean, if not at midnight, then within an hour of the New Year. But the idea drifted out of his brain, considering several objectives; a) What would others think, and b) That would be too much of a romantic gesture. 

The countdown begun. Gabriel begun to yell, at the top of his lungs. "Fifty nine! Fifty eight! Fifty seven!"

The kids joined in instantly, and by the time it came to ten, Castiel had joined in too. As had most of the adults. 

He might not have his perfect date at midnight. He'd just kiss Dean the next morning.

"Nine!"

Their kisses were always wonderful.

"Eight!"

Dean would hold him close.

"Seven!"

Castiel would touch his cheek.

"Six!"

Dean would breathe out his name.

"Five!"

They'd lean in.

"Four!"

Castiel would let his hand pull Dean closer towards himself, because it'd feel too perfect to be true to have Dean pressed up against him.

"Three!"

Dean would be the first to close the gap, and then Castiel would reciprocate.

"Two!"

Their lips would touch.

"One!"

Castiel would close his eyes; it felt just too wonderful.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

They'd kiss, for far too long.

Everyone kissed their respective partners, and Castiel lingered in a corner, eyeing everyone happily, and wishing everyone who floundered close to him, a very Happy New Year ahead. When Gabriel walked up to him, and hugged him, and muttered in his ear that Kathy was a bad kisser and he'd misjudged her, Castiel laughed out loud, because it was New Years and he was not going to be surly. He even grinned, and kissed Claire, a cousin's daughter, when she asked to be picked up. He made sure to kiss his Aunt on the cheek, and his dad patted him on the back twice when they hugged, and looked at him with happy eyes.

It was a wonderful new beginning, and though Dean hadn't been with him, it'd felt as though he were, and that'd been good too. Castiel had so many speculations about the new year and himself. He'd become a senior, and Gabriel would graduate this year, and there'd be looking into colleges, and there'd be his dad's new book releasing in June, and there'd be Dean. It would be amazing.

Castiel sat in the living room, discussing New Year resolutions with Zeke, while Gabriel told a story of last year's Christmas to everyone who would listen, and the adults were discussing the last year with much enthusiasm, when there was a doorbell.

"At 12:13 in the night?" Charles frowned, examining his watch.

"Only, in a city like Kansas!" Amara remarked highhandedly, making almost everyone sigh in exasperation.

Gabriel nudged Castiel, and Castiel caught his eye confusedly. "Castiel will get it!" He announced, and Castiel forlornly walked out of the room, because now he was expected to, to the front door, a good way away.

When he opened the door, there was Dean standing in front of him, breathless and with tinted cheeks. He was panting, and there was snow gathered on the shoulders of his jacket, and his hair was flattened on the top as if wet. He was smiling the smile he reserved for Castiel, and his eyes shone with excitement.

"Happy new year!" He breathed out, and without warning, leant in to capture Castiel's lips with his own. Castiel noticed that though Dean's were wet, he tasted of eggnog and mint, and he wondered if his tasted like 'Pigs in blankets'. But he kissed back vigorously, tastefully devouring the warmth of Dean's skin, now that he'd dragged him farther along inside the house, and cupping Dean's cheeks. When they pulled apart after a short kiss, Dean smiled chastely. "Happy new year." He repeated.

Castiel wondered if he blushed as hard as Dean did. "Happy new year, Dean."

"Was I your first kiss of the New Year?" Dean gulped, still holding Castiel with one arm. His expression was expectant, hopeful even.

"You were. You are." Castiel mumbled back, straining himself to not give in to what his entire being commanded him to do; kiss Dean again, because he'd just come up all the way to be Castiel's first kiss of the new year. "And, was I yours?" He whispered.

"I drove to Paradise at twelve in the midnight when it was snowing because I couldn't wait." Dean whispered back, leaning in further. "Damn, Cas. I wanted so bad to be your first kiss. Of course you were mine, too. I couldn't think of anyone or anything else." He swallowed. "There's no one I'd rather be with, or no where I'd rather be."

The cheesy pickup line seemed perfect for the moment. "Me neither, Dean. Me neither. You..you make dream, Dean. I dreamed of kissing you at midnight. And I prayed you'd do it too..You're a dream come true, Dean. I.." The words got stuck in Castiel's throat, and Dean's soft green eyes were so beautiful that Castiel, who was bad at poetry, could've written couplets for them. "I am so glad that you're my first kiss of the New Year, and that you're..with me. I have never been happier."

"I want to be your second kiss of the New Year too." Dean whispered.

"You can be all of them," Castiel muttered back, losing track of his thoughts as he stared at Dean's eyes, which had never seemed more gorgeous. The plane of his cheeks, his slightly quivering lips, pulled into a smie his eyebrows relaxed and slightly raised, and his eyes crinkled as he smiled at Castiel, looking at him like he'd hung all the moons.

"I want to be all of them." Dean spoke, before closing the gap between their lips, and murmuring against Castiel's lips. "I want you all for myself. All of this year, and always."

"All of this year, and always."

***

"I'll be there in five." Dean replied, sincerely, before hanging up.

"Be here sooner," Castiel muttered, at the dead-end, looking at his responsibility - his niece - with worried eyes. His eyes flickered over to the table where all of the things to be used to take care of her were kept, and then back to Abby, who sat in the middle of her toys, sniffling because she'd just stopped crying. 

He had had no idea he was this bad with kids. 

When he'd said yes to looking after Abby for half a day, he'd had no idea what he'd been getting himself into. It'd been his first babysitting experience, and he'd just believed it'd be playing with Abby for a bit and feeding her some stuff and then she'd go to sleep and he'd have something to boast about for the rest of his life - to Dean, who'd assured him that it was all going to be more difficult than that. He'd wanted to show Dean that he could too take care of kids, though Dean had told him flat out, in a lot of words that he'd suck at it - quote, "You may be amazing, Cas, but kids is something that'd be way out of your forte, since you just don't strike me as a good-with-kids guy", unquote.

But after he'd played School with two-year-old Abby for half an hour and given her what her mother had prepared for her Lunch, she still wouldn't fall asleep. And when Castiel had put her in her designated bed, and left her there to sleep - hoping she'd fall asleep better there, rather than in the middle of the dining table - she'd cried her lungs out, until Castiel had went back there and picked her up, and had swung her from side to side for what seemed like hours till she finally quietened down. He'd then put her down with toys, and would've waited for her parents to return but they were still a good deal away from the time that'd been decided to mark the end of Castiel's first and last babysitting. Since he'd already fed her all the food, and she wouldn't sleep, Castiel had tried to call her parents, who'd said that they'd try to be back as soon as possible. And then, Abby had butt-dialed Dean, and Castiel had had to talk to Dean in brief about it all, and he'd offered to be there in 'five'.

Castiel didn't know how Dean had changed him so much, but he was willing to admit that he needed help managing Abby, now.

True to his word, Dean showed up in little time, when Abby was busy trying to scrape the skirting off the wall with the lid of a playdoh container, and Castiel was observing it with sheer amusement. Castiel went to open the door, and Dean hustled in instantly, almost pushing Castiel away in the process, and sitting down with Abby on the ground, by the time Castiel reentered the room.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel grumbled, because Dean hadn't even smiled and greeted him.

"Hey, Cas," Dean looked up at Castiel with a small frown. "You don't leave a two year old alone when you go to answer the door."

"Don't be bossy." Castiel scowled back childishly, sitting back on the sofa. Abby ignored the two of them completely. "Abby does fine, on her own."

"Why did they ask you to babysit, I wonder then?" Dean retorted sarcastically.

Castiel squinted, tilting his head. "Okay, I thought I was asking Dean Winchester over, but it seems like I got a Mary Poppins minus the sugar."

"I'll give you sugar later, sugar." Dean blew him a kiss, making Castiel instinctively roll his eyes. "But, she's a living creature of two years of age, and she needs to be treated like that. You've never done this before, and hand on my heart, I've done this tons of times, and I know how to do this." He added, severely. "You don't sit on the sofa, when she's playing with sharp objects on the floor.

"I'm seeing a whole new side of you," Castiel frowned. "And, that's the lid of a playdoh container, and the TV remote, not sharp objects! And stop treating me like a beginner, because I'm never doing this again, so I'm not a beginner, I'm an ender. 

"I believe they're called quitters."

"I wish Abby never called you." 

"Is that what is the new trend? Blame it on the baby in the room?"

"Go make her food, you idiot. That's what I called you for."

"Your cousins didn't leave food, when they left her with you?"

"I fed her once, already."

"How much?"

"I have a sudden feeling that," Castiel sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "All of it, is not the correct amount to feed her."

"Yahtzee." Dean sighed, getting up. "I'm taking Abby to the kitchen with me." He picked her up, and held her against the side of his chest, with an arm around her. She'd been wearing a really adorable polka-dotted jumpsuit, and Castiel smiled, in spite of himself, at the pretty picture.

"Hey, I took care of her for about two hours before you showed up, Baby-whisperer!" Castiel retorted, scowling deep, even though he like having her taken over completely from him. Dean somehow seemed like he knew what he was doing - not because he said it at the end of every dialogue, but because he treated it with expertise of a professional. And Abby wasn't Castiel's favourite niece or anything; he was seeing her for the first time outside of a family gathering like at Thanksgiving or New Years. His family was not close, that way. And Castiel wasn't a big fan of children, that way. Especially ones you couldn't leave alone in a room for two minutes.

"She'd like pancakes or something, right?"

"Okay!" Castiel shrugged.

"And, is she allowed to have waffles or-"

"Waffles sound perfect."

"Not for you, dumb-a - idiot." He corrected, even as Abby played with the magnets on the refrigerator and he poured in things like milk and flour into a mixing bowl. "You're so unlike the Castiel one would've expected you to be."

"Exactly what everyone wants to hear." Castiel rolled his eyes, though he followed Dean's movements keenly, as he went about it with the air of someone who did this regularly. 

"In a good sense, mostly." Dean cooed, turning his attention to the toddler again, who was tugging at his pants and gurgling baby sounds. "Does she talk yet?"

"She's said nothing to me."

"You mean, she didn't quote Wordsworth's sonnets when you left her to sleep in a room when she wasn't even sleepy?"

"I thought babies liked to sleep!"

"Grown-ups like to sleep; babies won't sleep unless their eyes droop." Dean informed Castiel, chastely. Castiel groaned.

"So, what do they do then?"

"They eat, and play, and then quote Homer." Dean told Castiel, wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve, and stirring the mixture.

"You're mean, today." Castiel complained. He'd hoped for something better.

"We're babysitting, today." Dean pointed out, exaggeratedly.

"You don't even need me here." Castiel scowled. "I should go watch Final Destination Five and you can take care of Abby and all the kids in the World."

"Don't be a baby; I already have one on my hands, right now." Dean told Castiel, conjuring up a sweet smile, as Abby had returned to the magnets on the fridge, tired of tugging at Dean's jeans. "If you want to be of help, go see if she needs to be changed or something."

"I'm not doing that." Castiel shuddered. Abby chose this exact moment to begin to walk towards Castiel, her arms outstretched for balance, a watery smile on her face. Castiel, who'd been leaning against the door frame, instantly kneeled down to pick her up. "I'm not doing that, but I can play with you."

"You can't even baby-talk?" Dean asked, without turning.

"She's two! She understands normal people talk!"

"You're ridiculous." 

"Clay?" Abby piped up suddenly, and Castiel's eyes widened.

"Dean, she spoke to me!"

"Let's celebrate that later, Cas?"

"She's never spoken to me before."

"Probably because she was playing on the floor alone, while you watched TV."

"She likes to play alone." Castiel defended.

"She write you a note on that?"

"No." Castiel blushed.

"She told you, then?"

"She was crying for too long to talk."

"Was this before or after you put her to sleep alone at midday?"

"During?"

"I bet you put her to bed within a minute of eating her food."

"All the babysitters do that!"

"Yeah, on film!"

"Abby and I are going to play with clay." Castiel rolled his eyes, taking the upper way.

"Hey, and Cas, if she talks to you, talk back to her."

"Remind me to never ask your help for anything again."

Dean stuck out his tongue, at Castiel. "Babysitting's not like what it's showed as in books on the internet or Disney movies. This is how it's done."

"I wish Abby hadn't called you." Castiel repeated, running out of things to say, because Abby had given up waiting for Castiel to come with, and had raced back to the living room to play. Castiel didn't want a lecture again about how not to leave a baby in a room alone.

"So much for gratitude!?" Castiel could hear from the kitchen, when he'd sat down on the ground, his legs outstretched in front of him, and Abby'd parked herself on his calves and was gleefully making coils with thin rolls of clay.

Castiel had no idea how the next two hours whizzed by.

But by four in the afternoon, Castiel and Dean were lazily draped over the small couch in the living room, and Abby was sleeping in her room - fed, changed, and happily done with playing. Shark Tank was playing, and both of them were silently watching the screens, having earned the rights to rest.

"Your niece is cute." Dean muttered, attempting to make conversation, because the last time they'd spoken to each other had been after Abby had fallen asleep, and they'd whispered to each other that Dean would get them food and Castiel would turn on the television, and that'd been it. 

"Yeah, thanks." Castiel replied, emotionlessly. "She's taken after her mother, fortunately. Cousin Gadreel looks like one of the villains on Johnny Bravo."

"Do you come from one of those families where you call your cousins 'Cousin' blah-blah?" Dean asked, grinning with his head tilted downwards.

"No, I don't." Castiel smiled back. "Could you imagine if I did though?"

"You'd call Gabe 'Step-Brother Gabriel'." Dean chuckled, at the thought of it. "And Abby would be 'Niece Abigail'."

"That'd be weird, since her name is Abyssa. She probably wouldn't respond to it."

"You love making me look like an idiot, don't you?" Dean laughed, wrapping his arm around Castiel. Castiel, unhesitantly, leaned into Dean, lowering his head so that they'd be comfortable.

"You step into most of those, yourself." He defended.

"I guess I do." Dean shrugged dismissively. "But, seriously, glad you called me." Dean's fingers traced patterns on Castiel's forearm. "I didn't realise I missed it, 'til I got to play with one again. Sure, their constant need of attention is worse than the Kardashians' and you can't cuss around ten, but when they are finally done with tantrums and shit, they're adorable."

Castiel smiled. It was sweet. "I agree. Except," he paused, with a smirk. "Abby butt-dialed you."

"You mean her butt is so talented that it opened 'Contacts', scrolled down to 'D' and clicked on my name?"

"She's going to achieve great things someday."

"Can you just accept that you'd been considering calling me all the while, and instead of your finger, her ass did the honours?"

"Okay, gross." Castiel chortled, nonetheless. "And how do you decipher so much anyways, Dean?"

"I did it while I was calming your niece down after you literally took her plate away from her before she was done licking it all over." Dean squeezed his arm around Castiel, for a second. "Or maybe I did it right now, and I'm like Sherlock Holmes."

Castiel laughed, remembering a former joke. "With fuller cheeks."

"And just as good a natural contour and jawline." Dean added, proving that he remembered it too.

"Dean, do you seriously ever doubt the fact that you're the prettiest man I've ever been acquainted with?" Castiel whispered, unthinkingly.

"'Pretty's not exactly what I aim for, but thank you."

"My pleasure."

"Oh, are we doing the formal thing again?" Dean chuckled again, his voice resounding deeper to Castiel, because he had his head against Dean's chest. "I could tell you really enjoyed the 'm'Lord's."

"Don't ever call me that again." Castiel shuddered. "And, no. I just..was pleasured that you thanked me for complimenting you."

"Okay," Dean muttered, contentedly. "Got it." There was silence for a moment. "Hey, that's the shirt I chose for you, isn't it?"

Castiel looked down at himself. "Yeah, it is. Pretty comfortable."

"My pleasure." Dean let out a small chortle, before using his other hand to touch Castiel's other wrist lightly. 

"I like being comfortable." Castiel mumbled back, withdrawing his hand a bit, so that he could be the one to glove Dean's this time. It felt warm, and he was sure he felt Dean freeze for a moment there. He himself felt tingly, but it was the least he could do, to show how he felt. What he felt. "You make me feel comfortable too, Dean. I like that."

"I've probably looked for relationships where that feeling is mutual, all the time, Cas. I didn't know if I was, but I think so. And, this is it. This is rare for me." Dean whispered, as an appropriate response.

"My pleasure." Castiel smiled, in spite of himself. He couldn't explain his next move. "Dean, will you truthfully answer me if I ask you why you broke things up with Lisa?" Dean stiffened, and Castiel could feel it. "I know this is sudden to spring on you, and I assure you that it's not the only thing I think about, or some crap. I just, want you to be honest. I want to be honest too, so you can ask me whatever you want. I just-"

"I'm not going to need justification just because you ask a question about an ex." Dean interrupted. "And you know what? You want me to be honest. I'll be honest as hell, with you. I didn't break it off. She did. Because she told me what she wanted, and we..we didn't want the same things." His voice held a little note of sadness. Castiel felt the hurt, and stroked Dean's hand with his thumb.

"What did you want?"

"She wanted a-"

"I don't care." Castiel cut him off. "What did you want, Dean?"

"I like not knowing." Dean answered, looking away. "I always have. Uncertainties are intriguing, and I've always wanted to live in the moment. I didn't want my whole life planned out for me. I didn't want to get a corporate job at 23, promotions every two years, marridd at 27, kids at 30. I wanted to leave it to go, as it would. She..she didn't accept that. I couldn't make her."

Castiel remained silent.

Dean continued. "But, the ironic thing's that, though you won't believe me since I just said all that, but I do not care about anything else with you. I do not need to have a planning structure, or for that matter, not have one. You are in the plans, and you're what make it intriguing, not not knowing what happens next. I-" he paused, and cleared his throat. "I may not want to know if I'll buy a house in the suburbs or stay in Lawrence all my life, but I sure as hell want to know that you're going to be there tomorrow, when I want to talk, or want to be with you."

"That's somehow the sweetest thing I've ever been told."

"I try."

"You succeed."

"That didn't sound clingy?"

"I was wondering how I could say the same things to you in different words, in a way that I mean them and am not just plagiarising your speech."

"You always say the right things." Dean pushed Castiel away a bit, and crouched down a bit, so that their faces were level. "You're probably the only person in the whole world whom I can talk to about serious shit and Batman, in the same breath. And you don't even bat an eye when I saw something exceptionally weird. You just level with it. That's probably one of the things I love the most about you."

Castiel was silent for a moment, as he stared at Dean's eyes. "I've done this so many times before, but I never tire of looking into your eyes. It's probably the newest addition to my sucky hobbies." He whispered, managing a small smile, because Dean had a large one on his face. "Not just because they're so becoming. But because, they're just so charming, and I can't look away once I lay my eyes on them. They're just..unjustifiably beautiful. Somehow, they make me feel better about myself." Castiel blabbered on. "There's something in how you look at me at times, Dean, as if I'm more of a person than I am, and I..I don't know. I feel like I matter.. just.." Castiel gave up. "Butterflies." He sighed. "I feel like I'm on the ninth cloud."

"My pleasure."

Castiel grinned. "Everything with you, is fun." He couldn't believe he was finally saying it. "That's right. Even you telling me off for being an idiot around babies, or asking me to try out some weird shirt, or watch five movie with you at a stretch - I like it. I like it all."

"My pleasure."

"I have only myself to blame for teaching you that. You're going to use that everywhere, aren't you?" 

Dean cupped Castiel's face with both of his hands. "I..I want to kiss you real bad, right now. And by 'real bad', what I mean is, I dearly want to kiss you and not that I want it to be slobbery and uncoordinated."

Castiel nodded. 

"Being with you makes me happy. I know this isn't as perfect as your words were, but that is the most I can say, Cas. The truth. I'd rather be with you than anyone else, and I'd rather be with you than no one else." He paused, and his thumb stroked Castiel's cheek, making him draw in a breath. "That foreplay enough for a kiss?" He whispered, leaning in.

"You asked very nicely, and I really want to secretly, too." Castiel grinned, before their lips touched, and Castiel felt his hands go limp by his side, as Dean kissed him so much passion that his back straightened until they were both kneeling upright on the couch, and then Castiel's back arched, as Dean pushed into it, and his hands held him closer.

He wanted to joke around with Dean, and he wanted to have these occasional serious conversations with him.

He wanted Dean to kiss him, and he wanted them to merely look at each other for as long as they could.

He wanted to sit next to Dean in the Impala, and to cuddle next to him on his bed, and be his Chemistry Practicals Partner in school.

He wanted to be by Dean, and he wanted Dean to be by him.

And, there was no denying the obvious.

He wanted Dean to love him back,

Because Castiel Novak was in LOVE with Dean Winchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book is coming to an end! Can't you feel it in your bones???


	7. "In all my glory."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so close to the end.

"But, what now?" Garth groaned confusedly, pleading with his eyes for help. Castiel adamantly shook his head - he might be a friend, but he was tutoring him now, and Garth had to learn to solve trigonometric algorithms on his own. "I have this. But what do I do with it?"

"Just simplify it." Kevin, from the desk next to them, piped in, looking up from Advanced Physics after a long while. 

"Garth already knows that." He informed Kevin, who'd returned to burying his nose in his book. "And Garth, no asking for hints. You're solving this one, yourself."

"Cas," Charlie interrupted, from in front of Kevin, on the desk. The name had spread among his friends, by now. "Your phone, right?" She held up Castiel's mobile phone.

Castiel nodded, taking it from her. 

"You have messages." Charlie grinned. "Someone doesn't know they're texting you, as they text you."

Castiel grinned back; his hate of texting was a common topic of joke-making. "True. I'll check the messages, Charlie, thanks. How's the essay coming on?"

"I'm gonna blow Mrs. Felix's minds off." Charlie promised. "She won't know what hit her." She laughed out loud, before Castiel's face reminded her that they were in the school Library, and she added, in a whisper. "And you see, that's funny because the topic is meteorites."

"Don't explain your jokes to me." Castiel whispered back sarcastically, extracting another giggle of laughter from Charlie, before she went back to her work. Castiel picked up his phone, and opened the first message - from his ISP - telling him that they had a new network plan which would be way more feasible. Castiel ignored it. The next, was an anonymous number. He clicked on it, and frowned deeply reading the strikingly queer messages.

Anonymous  
>>>You think this is Heaven?  
>>>Not a well-wisher, but you should know when you're being lied to. About something like this.  
>>>Here's to the reality.

And then followed a link, which Castiel debated on whether to click, or not.

Heaven? What would he think was Heaven? His..life?

Castiel was quite happy in his life at the moment, because everything was going smoother than he could've asked for. It was a beautiful January, and he was nearing the end of Junior Year, and he was dating Dean Winchester and was positively in love with him, though he hadn't yet confessed so. He had his best friends around him, because they were all studying for the finals together, and Gabriel had moved back in, and Charles' last book had made immense success. He had rising hopes of getting into Harvard, though it was still a good way away, and most importantly of all, he'd never even thought of being so settled in a relationship with the most perfect guy of highschool, but he was.

And, he was being lied to? What could that mean?

Who would be lying to him?

'About something like this', suggested that it was something grave.

Castiel lingered on the only thing that he could have been being lied about - Dean Winchester dating him for a dare. But he'd long dismissed any such conjecture from his head, because he'd seen it as clearly in Dean's eyes as he'd seen in a mirror, that Dean enjoyed himself with Castiel. And he said things, and reacted to things, and did things like holding his hand in the middle of the Hallway or kissing him randomly, and Castiel couldn't make himself think of, with any certainty, that Dean was lying about it all. For a dare.

'Here's to the reality'. 

The link was alluring, to Castiel's fingers; and out of sheer curiosity, he clicked on it.

It was to a blurrily made video of a blue screen, which looked like the camera had accidentally been set on record in someone's jeans pocket. But a beat later, a familiar voice sounded, "Hey, Winchester." It was Crowley's, and Castiel paused it on reflex. It was a good ten minute long video recording. Of a conversation between Crowley and Winchester. Dean. 

Castiel was even more intrigued.

He had to listen to it.

He trusted Dean, but he had to. He blamed human nature.

"Hey, I'll be back." He announced, to his friends, standing up, trying to make as little noise as possible. "Garth, look at the solution in my book if you can't do it in another five minutes. Not before." He instructed, before beginning to tail away from the library, wondering where he'd get the quiet to listen to something like that.

"Off to meet the boyfriend, Cas?" Charlie called after him, again conveniently forgetting that it was the library.

"Maybe," Castiel supplied, before walking out. His feet took him to his locker - the hallway was sparsely filled because school was over, and the only people remaining were players for practise, students in the Library, Student Council people, and the School Staff. Dean was there too, he remembered unnecessarily, before he clicked on play, leaning against his locker, a mused smile on his lips.

Mysteries were intriguing.

"Hey, Winchester." It played again, and the sound was clear, in spite of the slight friction. 

"Heads up, asshole!" Dean's voice greeted, in a genial manner, and there was a sound which Castiel classified as a ball being caught by Crowley, which was thrown at him by Dean.

"Your throw gets worse by the millisecond, but we'll still kick St. Cloud's asses with our eyes closed, so screw practise and talk to me without the ball, Dean!" Crowley's voice resounded. Castiel listened, in amusement. 

"Need something?" Dean spoke, his voice sounding closer for some reason. Castiel wondered if Crowley recorded it.

"Dunno, perhaps justification for ignoring my ass for so long?" Crowley's sneer could be heard. "What's up with that, dude? Still touchy about Lunch Room in November, or too busy with the missus?"

"I'm cool about November, bitch," Dean replied, casually. Castiel swallowed. "And, the mister's peachy. You got any new trouble with Anne, or just the same?"

"Quinn, now. But, just the same." Crowley seemed to grunt. "Still can't believe you were all riled up to fighting me on Novak's behalf, though. The guy's done things to you, man. You seem too into him, for that matter. Whipped or something?"

"Pfft." Castiel stiffened, his breathing getting hitched. "You know me, Crowley. I don't get attached."

"Just saying," Crowley continued. "Been too long for just a stupid dare." Castiel froze, his jaw literally dropping. "You've been dating him for a couple months now. Dragging it out a bit much, wouldn't you say?"

"Not getting out on technicalities, dude," Dean's voice was level. "I remember the dare, and I stick to it. And anyways; the longer, the better, right?"

"Damn right." There was a clapping sound, like a lazy high-five. "Was just getting worried about my wingman."

"You know it's me and Benny winging each other, you desperate dickwad!" Dean laughed, and Castiel almost closed his eyes, because he used to love that laugh. "And worry about me? What are you, my Grandma?"

"Please, Winchester." Crowley cleared his throat. "Somebody needs to worry, and I'm sure your Nana's got her own shit. You look all hitched around Novak. See you together everywhere! And then, you go around holding hands and going heart-eyes and crap. Rumors fly. Everybody thinks you're a goner."

"You think I mean all that?" Dean snorted, and Castiel's felt his heart skip a beat. "I gotta do it, Crowley. The public gets what the public wants. And, I'm far from a goner! I put up a show, and everyone falls for it! You don't get to rule T&D by being a wuss and not crossing limits."

"Whatever, dude. Just saying." Crowley's voice came. "Don't get your panties in a knot, I know you know what you're doing."

Dean grunted, and there was no sound for a while. Castiel felt rage boil in his veins and flow through his entire self, but he restrained himself, since there were a couple of minutes left. He couldn't believe his ears. Actually, he could. He couldn't believe himself. He couldn't believe he'd fallen so easily for those stupid tricks. Just like that. He couldn't believe he'd fallen in love. He couldn't believe he'd trusted a guy like Dean Winchester, and that he hadn't known better. He couldn't believe he'd been such a goddamned idiot. And worse, now it actually hurt.

"So, Quinn, huh?" Dean's voice, directed at Crowley, cut into his hurtful reverie. Castiel pricked his ears.

"The dancer chick," Crowley answered in a drawl. "Really good, and bendy in bed. Though you probably are strictly into dick now?" There was a pause. Then a laugh from Crowley. "Not yet? You haven't had any action in so long?"

"Didn't need to." Dean said, quietly, in a kind of subdued tone.

"What about Tessa, though? Heard she still didn't move on from you, you lucky bastard." A pause. Some static. "Or what, you wouldn't cheat on your fake boyfriend, Mr. Blue Eyes?"

"C'mon, Crowley," the voices were getting distant as if the recording device was being moved away from the speakers. So, it wasn't Crowley recording. Who else, then? 

The voice almost died off. "So, now you defend him along with playing him..."

Castiel hit pause, and stuffed his mobile phone into his pocket. He tried to ignore the tears pricking the back of his eyes, and succeeded in blinking all of them away. But it hurt. It physically hurt, in his chest.

How could Dean have..

He hated Dean.

He abso - fucking - lutely hated Dean.

Castiel wasn't even directing his own actions, as he stormed out of the almost empty hallway towards the fields. It wasn't long, before his eyes fell on Dean looking handsome as ever in a red jersey, sweating, and talking to Victor Henrickson. But Castiel saw red.

He was never going to trust him ever again.

But first, he had something to do.

He stormed towards Dean, at double his usual pace. Dean, seeing him coming, attempted to smile smally, but Castiel didn't reciprocate. His nails dug into his palm, and he clenched his jaw, as he walked up to Dean - inches away from his chest, and glared at him.

"Cas," Dean's voice was concerned. "Everything alright, ma-"

Bam!

Dean was on the ground.

Castiel's fist had connected with Dean's face, in the first swing, and Dean had gone down in a second, because Castiel had poured all of his wrath into it. He wanted to punch Dean again, because Dean was looking at him, anxiously and scared, and very confusedly, and because he felt betrayed. How the fuck had he let Dean get away with it all? How the fuck could Dean have made Castiel fall in love with him, just like that?

Dean scrambled up to his feet, even as people gathered around. "Cas!?" His voice was high, but he made no attempts to respond physically. "What's the-"

Castiel stared into Dean's eyes, with raw emotions, and he saw Dean understand, his face a canvas of unruly feelings. His confused expression changed to a worried knowing one, and his eyebrows pinched together in a frown.

"Cas, look, I can explain-"

"I want to kick your ass right now, but I'm afraid I'll not be a wuss any longer, and cross limits." Castiel quoted, red spots dancing in his eyes. His voice was deeper than a growl, but louder than he'd ever been. "But I never, ever want to see your face again, or want to hear you lie to me again."

Dean looked devastated; his hand beckoned towards Castiel. "Cas, please, just hear me out-"

"Not a word, Dean. You're full of bullshit, and you can shove your fucking dare up all of your asses and celebrate the fact that you finished it, and never ever have to even come close to me again. That sounds like Heaven, doesn't it?"

Dean looked more than stumped now. He was speechlessly staring at Castiel, his eyes gleaming - Castiel wouldn't believe they were tears - and his lip quivering. He was a picture of misery, but Castiel didn't even budge. He stared at those green eyes which had captivated, fascinated, and delighted him, and glared back at the pitiable pleading look in them. "Cas, it was a mistake-"

"We were a mistake. The biggest mistake of my life. Fuck you, Dean Winchester." Castiel squinted, till his eyes were merely slits, and before he begun to walk again. "Fuck you." He let out throatily, it coming out in a choked tone, as the realisation that he'd not get to be with Dean anymore hit him, and he hung his head in shame. He turned on his heel and stormed away - wherever his legs would take him.

He hated his life, and himself, and Dean Winchester.

For everything.

For the dates; for the touches; for the words; for the kisses. For every freaking fake moment wasted.

For making him fall in love with him.

For every damn thing.

His legs carried him till he could hold it back no more, and Castiel, for the first time in the entirety of his life, cried in the stalls. Because of Dean Winchester.

Because of Dean fucking Winchester.

***

"Cas, please! Just open the door! Please! Let me talk to you, let me see you; please, Cas!" Dean had given up knocking because it created a huge commotion, and was yelling at the door to Castiel's bedroom, as if that didn't.

Castiel lay on his bed, the wrong side facing down, his ears probably the only senses that still functioned. He'd been listening, halfheartedly to all of Dean's requests, promises, and pleadings, but had not replied once. He'd decided that it was it.

He was never talking to Dean again.

He'd not reply, and after a while, Dean would decide that it was too much trouble, and he'd go away. And that'd be a chapter closed. All Castiel had to do now was stay locked up in his room, until Dean Winchester went away from in front of his room.

"Cas! I'm worried, Cas, seriously, I am! Can you at least open the door, and talk to me? Hear me out! I can explain it! I didn't mean a word in that video! Not a word, Cas! I'll tell you the complete truth! That recording was pure crap! Dammit, talk to me, Cas!" 

It had been Dean's voice. Not pure crap. Castiel stubbornly refused to respond, and clutched on the bedsheets, sitting up straight. The tears had stopped; he'd probably run out of tears, and he'd had enough. He wasn't even upset anymore, he was furious. And, betrayed. Lied to. Deceived.

"Cas!" Dean coughed, as if saying too much injured his throat. He had been hammering on his door and crying out his name and false promises, since school ended, and Castiel took a ride back with Gabriel. It was seven in the evening now. "Cas! Please, you have to at least, hear me out! You mean a lot to me, Cas! You mean so much to me; I could never say that! Believe me, please!"

Why was Dean even going through so much trouble for him? He didn't actually feel a thing for Castiel, then why did he continue to lie? Castiel could punch him again, for still continuing with the lying. 

"I'm not moving from here, till you come out, and hear me out, I swear, Cas!" Dean yelled, again. He just didn't tire. Even Castiel's ears were beginning to get fed up. "I have things to confess! I assure you, that video - it's far from the truth about - about anything! Cas, please! I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!"

The video. Castiel swallowed. 'I put up a show. Everyone falls for it,' He could yell at Dean. He had a hundred things to say, but none of them would come out. Because he was so sure that - that if Dean looked at him like he always did, and touched him, and said all those very things, Castiel would believe them. He was so far a goner, that he was afraid he'd believe Dean again, if he opened the door, or even struck up a conversation. 'I'm far from a goner'. The video. The freaking video. The video.

"Cas, let me in! Or I'll begin talking right here, outside your door, in front of everyone! Because I have so much to tell you, about so much, and I'm sorry I kept it from you, but I can't anymore!" Dean's voice cracked, and Castiel's tears resurfaced. "Let me in, p-please."

Just stop doing that, Castiel begged Dean, looking at the door hurtfully. He wanted to believe Dean. But he'd never be able to trust Dean again. Never again. Never ever again.

"Castiel Novak, I swear, I will spend all of tonight outside your door, and I'll shut up and stand up when you tell me that you're ready to hear my side of the story!" Dean swore, and Castiel rolled his eyes. "Give me a chance, Castiel! You think I don't deserve one, but just freaking give me a chance!"

A second chance, to break my heart again. Castiel wanted to scream at Dean. Because the freaking dare wasn't still over before I came to know of the reality, and you need to finish it, don't you?

"I can't lose you, Cas." There was a loud noise, as if Dean slumped against his door. "I don't want to. I couldn't. Please don't make me; please give us a second chance."

Castiel had deterred from his determination once, before. And it resulted in him falling in love with a guy who was trying to woo him for a dare. He wasn't doing it again. He would never open the door to Dean, again. Tears streamed down his cheeks, which he wiped away in an embarrassed fashion, because they showed him to be weak. He wasn't going to be weak any longer. He wasn't going to be swayed any longer. He'd made all the mistakes there were to be made; he wouldn't do it again.

There was silence for a while.

Castiel wondered, hatefully, if contrasting to his promises, Dean had walked away. It seemed like a better option than to yell at a person he wasn't even interested in, in reality, for so long.

But there ensued a conversation, he couldn't make head and tail of.

Castiel pulled his attention away from the door and beyond, and lifted his book. He'd study; he'd live his life like he had before Dean Winchester. It would be so difficult, but he'd manage. He wouldn't go grovelling back to a guy who'd lied to him for so long.

Finally, a voice cut into his distracted reverie. "Dammit, Gabriel, I have things to tell Cas! You're going to have to drag me out of here, if you want me gone! I'm not moving till I've had a word with him!"

And followed Gabriel's voice, unclear through the walls. "Do it soon, because else, in the morning, I'll be the one to beat the shit out of you, Winchester, before I kick your ass out of Paradise and my brother's life for once, and for all." There was poison in his tone, but Castiel didn't need anyone else to fight his battles. A battle he'd lost against his own reasoning, a battle his imagination had won against logic, a battle that had and would ruin him. He hated the position Dean Winchester had put him in. Another tear lodged itself out of his eyes.

There was silence for some more time.

"Cas, you have to realise I'm serious!" Dean pleaded, hammering on the door with his fists. "Please don't do this; please just listen to me!"

Castiel hardened his eyes, recounting the video, not even registering Dean's words anymore. 'You know me, I don't get attached.' Castiel wanted to rip his heart out of his chest, if it would stop the hurting. Because it freaking hurt.

It was at about eleven, in the night, that Dean yelled once more, "Cas, you haven't said a word to me, and I've been out here for no less than seven hours! I'm going to stay here for even longer, because you mean something to me, and something has got to show it! If you won't let me talk to you, you're going to have to walk over me to get to school in the morning, because I'm not going anywhere."

Castiel glared at the door. He didn't believe he'd ever felt so badly for anyone. Or so much hate for one guy. He just wanted Dean to know he'd had enough, and give up, and go away.

His wish was granted, because Dean was completely quiet following since.

Castiel ignored the pang in his chest, and lay down to sleep, clearing out his bed. He'd closed his eyes, and gotten rid of the last few remnants of tears, in the bathroom. He didn't even bother to eat, or change into his pyjamas, and settled in bed. He turned to his side, to look away from the door, because it revived memories.

He had been so sure that he'd get nightmares, that he was the one most surprised when in his dreams - after he fell asleep, a tired mess, at about twelve in the night - he saw Dean and him having fun.

All of their dates, and all of the things they'd done.

It was as if his subconscious had pledged to make Castiel feel worse.

It was somewhere during the New Year's episode, of which he remembered each frame, that Dean had whispered something like 'Always'. Castiel's eyes flitted open, and he didn't even need to sit up straight, because he just felt so awake, suddenly.

Clutching onto his bedsheet, he realised he felt claustrophobic - as though he couldn't breathe.

Not in the sense that he felt when Dean kissed him too hard, and for too long, and sucked all of his breath away. In the sense that if he didn't go out, he'd probably choke and faint. He felt thirsty, his tongue was parched in his mouth, and his insides hurt.

He'd never known heartache was so literal; he stood up, trying to get the weight off his chest. It was like a ton had been dropped, to crush his very existence.

At least Dean was no longer there.

A flicker in his brain remembered how he'd have to get used to a life without Dean Winchester. Without the Impala rides in the morning with Dean's freaking mixtape for background to lighthearted flirtations; without Dean, at his side, during Lunch; without him making him laugh like a maniac in class; without him making him feel special with just the curving of his lips and twinkle of his eyes whenever they went out. Without the kisses, which had never been anything less than perfect. Without meeting his beautiful eyes, all day.

Without a word exchanged.

He took in a deep breath, feeling the need to go out even more. He needed a walk. That would be appropriate. He'd locked himself up for far too long, and it was enough. He'd learn to live without Dean; he'd survived before him, hadn't he?

Though it only felt as though he started living after Dean.

Fuck.

He dragged his feet along to the door, deciding to go up to the terrace, and opened the door.

Instantly, he felt a weight dropped on it, and he flinched before holding the groggy man, who'd collapsed backwards against his legs, as if leaning against the door and taken by surprise.

Dean's eyes flickered open, and within a moment, he scrambled back to his feet, and looked at Castiel with wide, hopeful, green eyes. How could eyes be that green? Like emeralds, they shone, as though with tears, and there was an eyesore of a bruise on the side of his face. Where Castiel had hit him. Castiel felt a pang of hurt. He hadn't wanted to hurt Dean that badly. It'd just happened.

He stared back, trying to stay emotionless. He didn't say a word.

"Cas! Cas," Dean begun in a whisper, his voice raspy, then almost cried out, as he wrapped his arms around him. "Cas!"

Castiel rigidly stood, his hands limp, his determination had to be renewed to not give him away and hold the trembling man who was clinging onto him for dear life. He wanted to. He wanted to, so bad. But, 'I put up a show. Everyone falls for it.'  Castiel pushed Dean away, breaking the hug, and stared back steelily. "I thought you went away."

Dean trembled, still, all the sleep gone from his eyes like magic. "I told you I'd be here. All night. As long as it took for you to give me a chance."

"Dean, we're over." Castiel looked down at the ground, not trusting himself to look at Dean's pleading eyes. He would melt. "Nothing you say can change that. You lied to me. All this time."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you." Dean's voice was weak, and scrappy. "I wasn't! I meant it all! All of the things we've done, all the things I said to you, these last few weeks; I wasn't lying!"

"I don't want to hear your lies, again." Castiel felt his voice break too. Why was it this hard?

"I'm not lying!" Dean swore. "Is this how someone who's lying looks? And behaves? Cas, I care for you. And I'm going to make you believe it. I'm going to spend every moment of my life trying to make you believe me."

"With more pretense." Castiel hissed back, at the 'I'm not lying'. "More lies, more bullshit." His breathing hitched. "I have half a mind to hit you again, Dean." He didn't. He couldn't hurt Dean anymore. But saying so felt real. He wished he meant it. Just as much he wish Dean meant it all.

"You can hit me again, Cas. I freaking deserve it. You can beat the shit out of me, if it'd lessen your hurt and make you forgive me." Dean volunteered. "But you have to hear me out. You agreed to give me a chance by opening the door, and I'm going to make it worth it. Let me-"

"I was going out for a walk. And I don't have to do a single thing." Castiel declared, closing his eyes, hoping that'd stop the tears which pricked his eyes. "There's no second chance after what you did."

"That's the point. I didn't!" Dean begged. "Cas, that video is old! Like, from back in December! And, I swear, those are the parts I didn't mean! All that I said in it! All of it is bullcrap! That was the part which was a lie, not us, and all that happened between you and me!"

"How do you even know about the video?" Castiel tried to keep his voice level.

"Because I know who sent it!" Dean cried out. "Michael did, okay!? He came up to me, and told me why he did it! He hates me, and he hates you because you make me happy, and," Dean's voice rose with every syllable. "And he wants to see me heartbroken, so he did all that, because you thinking I betrayed you - it hurts me!"

Castiel glanced away. "Dean, that might be true, but he couldn't have recorded that if you hadn't said all of those things!"

"Why can't you just believe me for one goddamn moment, Cas!?" Dean's voice suddenly rose, and Castiel's eyes widened.

Before he knew what he was doing, he'd fisted Dean's shirt and had pulled him through the door, slamming it shut, with half of his force while using the rest to keep Dean from spilling over his torso from the sudden movement. "There's my dad sleeping in this very house. Don't yell, you-"

"I'm sorry." Dean looked ashamed, pulling back a step. "It's just that- I don't know, Cas, I- I really want you to believe me. I need you to. I see it's difficult, but - can't you just- please?" He looked up at Castiel, for the first time probably, because for once, he was the one who was slumping.

"Incoherent sentences do not build back my trust in you, Dean." Castiel replied, turning away. "Nor does a lousy explanation of how the video was made. The fact remains, that you admitted to this," his hand gestured to the space between them. "This whatever this was, to be false. Clearly. How can I ever trust you again? I don't even understand why you're still here." He looked at Dean.

As if to say, 'Haven't you done enough?'

"Cas, I'm an asshole." Dean paused, as if about to commence a speech.

"Dean, maybe arguing all of those other times when you said you were ones was wrong too." Castiel had meant it with an unmeaning tiny note of jest.

Dean's lip quirked. "I always told you so." He let out a breath, heavily, because Castiel was glaring at him. "So Cas, I'm going to start this story at the very beginning."

"Dean, I'm not going to entertain you twisting up crap to make me give in, at this hour." 

"No, Cas, just please let me explain, okay? You only know your side of the whole thing. And you're right, me pleading or blaming Michael doesn't help my case. But this does. And it starts at the very beginning."

Castiel looked at Dean tentatively, but he looked dead serious. "I don't even know why I'm listening to you." He muttered to himself.

"It's because you subconsciously think I'm telling the truth."

"That's not true." Castiel growled back, pacing across the room to sit down at the other end of the bed, because Dean had been inching towards him and Castiel was a slave to his physical being and that would just not be a good idea. 

'It's because I want to think you're telling the truth.' He didn't add.

"So, at the party, when I first approached you-"

"You admitted that you were paying me attention for a dare." Castiel recalled bitterly.

"That was the first mistake." Castiel couldn't resist turning to look at Dean. "And the first lie." Castiel blinked. "I mean that, there was a dare - of course, there was a dare - but it was not just that. Ketch wasn't the one who gave me the dare. Benny did." Castiel squinted. "And, you kept wondering, 'why you?' - it was because I..." Dean's voice faltered.

Castiel blinked again.

"It was because I'd seen you before." Dean admitted. "You weren't that much of a stranger to me, Cas - I knew you."

Was he trying to say he had his eyes on Castiel even before the dare?

But...

That couldn't be.

Right?

Castiel stared at Dean.

"Oh, come on, do I need to spell it out for you?" Dean denies he ever whined. "I kinda liked the hot blue-eyed guy in the bleachers, who always looked at me like I defied everything he believed in. And I was too much of a wuss to do something about it. So freakin' Benny had to bail me out, by givin' me that dare. You with me?"

Castiel stared harder. His mind raced.

"I tried to make you like me then, didn't I? I tried to get you to find me attractive, which you took such a long time getting around to. And then, I tried to make you want me, and everything was going on smooth until I realised that something got flipped in the middle, and I-I started liking you. A lot." Dean paused. "The real deal."

Castiel stared, and his mind raced, and he swallowed.

"And, that video, that freaking video was taken at a time which was very - very messy for me. I - It was around the time when Meg was fawning all over you and you were making no efforts to push her away, and she freaking called you stuff like 'unicorn' and I kind of snapped because it was you, and also because," Dean was blabbering now. "Shit had just got real. And I was barely coming to face with all of these new feelings, and it was difficult and Crowley is not really a bad guy, around me - but he's kind of a big foot-in-the-mouth, and he's one of my," He looked shy almost. "He's one of my guys, and he's on the team and I guess I was just clinging onto that last shred of my past when I said all of those things about it being a show and shit like that. I was so scared of everything I felt and I wanted to seem normal and I went a step too far talking to him about it, but I didn't even realise it until it was done with, and I -" Dean heaved a breath. "It was a mistake. A lie told because I'm an asshole and a coward, but I'm an asshole who has feelings for you and a coward who finally had the guts to fucking say that to you, and I just hope you- you believe me."

Castiel barely knew what to say.

Then suddenly, he did.

"I want to believe you." He let out, facing away from him, and pursing his lips. "I want to - I really do. But every moment you're not saying something, your words are ringing in my ears, and they're tearing me apart. I want to believe that you're telling the truth, but I don't want to seem like a fool again! I can't-"

"Make the same mistake twice?" Dean spoke bitterly.

"I can't," Castiel persisted. 

"So, you're just giving up on this?" Dean countered. "You and me? One glitch, and it's all over?" He lowered his voice. "Just admit that you've had enough of me, and don't want me anymore, Cas."

"I HAVE NOT HAD ENOUGH OF YOU, AND I WANT YOU!" Castiel yelled back, his chest heaving, and Dean looked at him with tears in his green eyes, making them look like emeralds. "And, it's NOT just one glitch-" Castiel turned away again, and started to look at the wall instead of Dean. "It's the fact that that glitch is the reason that I probably won't be able to trust you ever again."

"Cas!" Dean cried out. "Don't say that-"

"Dean, I want to believe you," he let out. The rest was conveyed by the guilty silence.

'I'm sorry I can't.'

"This was real, Cas." Dean insisted. "What we had, was real! Are you not even going to fight for it?"

"Dean, you never told me everything. You always knew more about what was happening between us, than I did. I was just supposed to go along with-"

"Cas, I never imposed on you-"

"But, it was like- one fine morning, Dean Winchester is texting me and picking me up for school and fighting to sit with me for Lunch and giving me flowers and freaking opening my doors and getting me a burger, and walking me to classes and-"

"Cas-"

"Dean, I'm not saying I didn't like that! I got all tingly when you did all that you did, and I enjoyed the attention, and I thought you were adorable and I loved being with you, but there was always this lingering feeling of whether it was true or not!? Of whether you were doing it because you liked me or because you'd accepted a dare!?"

"Cas, I-"

"Don't mistake me, Dean, I have never had a better time, in my life. The last few months were the best in my life, and being with you was exhilarating and amazing. But, it took me freaking ages to get my eyes off the sword looming at our relationship which was the completion of the dare and me falling head over heels in love with you, and to get my eyes on the unbelievably beautiful and perfect you. This has got me thinking of that again, and I don't know if I'll be able to get it out of my head this time!"

"Cas, please-"

"Dean, I don't even know - following that explanation of yours - where the dare ended, and it started being you?" Castiel was grateful that he couldn't see Dean, because it was only in such a position that he could say all that he had to get out of his head. He had so much clogged up in his head, and it was finally pouring out. 

Dean was silent.

Castiel choked out, "How much of it was true?"

And all of a sudden, there was a sound that sounded like a distorted version of his name, and a cough, and a panting, and when he turned, Dean was on his knees, his face streaked with tears for the first time Castiel had ever witnessed, and his nostrils flared. His entire face was blotchy, and his eyes were bloodshot, and he was biting his lip to keep it from quivering. "Please don't say that!?" He cried out, breaking down entirely at the end of the short verse, and burning his head on his arm.

Castiel couldn't keep it in any longer. 

"Dean, please don't do tha-"

"Cas, I don't know how to make you believe me!" Dean yelled, looking at Castiel with hurt in his eyes. "I just know that I need you to believe it! I meant every word; I meant every freaking word, but I don't know how to make you trust me!"

"I don't know either-" Castiel admitted haplessly. Every fibre of his being wanting to run to Dean and hold him until he stopped crying, and kiss him and tell him that he loved him. But...

"I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing," Dean's eyes shone because of the tears. "Because it hurts to hear you say those things now. Because they're not true, and I mean it all, and I-"

"Dean, please don't say-"

"Cas." Dean cut him off. "I-I need you."

Castiel stayed silent, gasping.

"I need you in my life. I need all that you've brought to my life. You make me feel like I matter, Cas, and you make me feel complete. I meant all of it. I want to spend so many more mornings waking up next to you; I want to spoil you and tease you, and laugh with you and admit silly things in front of you because you make me feel like they matter. Your smile lights up my day, and I want to kiss you all fucking year like I said I did, and I want us to adopt a fucking dog and call it 'Dogtor Strange' like you told me you always dreamt, and I want to make you feel the same way you make me feel, because you make me feel light in the stomach and breathy and I don't know why but-" Dean ran out of words and breath. "Fucking butterflies."

Castiel swallowed. Butterflies. He understood. As if summoned, his insides fluttered.

"Damn, Cas." Dean swore, wrenching his eyes away from Castiel's by turning them upwards to the ceiling. "Being with you feels..heavenly. I don't want to leave you alone, and I want you to come with me if I do, and I-" he choked on his next words.

"Dean, I-"

"No, let me have the balls to say it." He hissed, raising his hand. "I-I, Cas, I- I really-" He drew in a noisy breath. "I love you, Cas."

"I love you, Dean." Castiel breathed out, letting go of the only thing that was holding him back from going to Dean. Fear. "I love you, Dean." He let out, pursing his lips as he dashed across the room to kneel next to Dean, and hug him. To his heart. 

He felt Dean go completely motionless and limp in his hands, and barely embrace him back - merely collapse against Castiel's torso. "I love you," he repeated, like a mantra. Under his breath, and against Castiel's skin, before Castiel understood what was happening. His lips brushed against the nape of Castiel's neck, and he felt arousal surge through him, his eyes rolling back in his head. Dean's words echoed in his ears. "I love you. I love you. I love you."

"I love you." He whimpered out, himself, wanting to make up for all of the cruel words. "I'm so sorry-"

"No, I'm sorry for being such a dick." Dean argued.

"I'm sorry for hitting you," Castiel cried out, separating himself from Dean, and his fingers now keeping Dean's chin level. Before he knew what he was doing, he pressed his lips to the tired man's forehead, screwing his eyes shut. "I'm so sorry for acting out and-"

"I'm sorry for not doing this sooner." Dean apologised, pulling back his head, and his hands nimbly running over Castiel's jawline. "I'm sorry for everything, Cas."

"Please don't be." Castiel bit his lip. "I'm thankful for everything."

"I'm thankful for everything." Dean breathed noisily. "For you. I will never do anything to damage our relationship again. I'll grow a pair, and I'll-"

"I love you." Castiel cut him off, incoherently, leaning forward.

Dean breathed in the same air as Castiel, their foreheads touching because Castiel was leaning forward still. "I want to-"

"Yeah, I know." Castiel sighed, a sigh of relief, before their lips crashed against each other. Within moments, they were pressed against each other familiarly. Dean arched his back as Castiel leaned in, wanting more of Dean. Wanting to get closer. Wanting to never let go. 

Dean's thigh sublimely pushed up against Castiel's groin, and Castiel gasped, grinding against Dean. Their lips never leave each other, even as their hands explore each other in passionate need. Dean had his hands up in Castiel's hair, and Castiel's are wrapped around Dean's middle, and their tongues wrestle for domination; Ecstasy shoots through Castiel each time fluttering Emeralds meet his sapphires.

Dean mumbled, 'I love you',  as if in a trance, as he lifted himself up from the floor, only pulling apart for breath. 

"I want you," he growled in a scratchy voice, his body begging for more contact. 

"I'm all yours," Dean's jeans gave Castiel friction as he moves, and Castiel whimpered because it feels so good. Dean is just as much into the feeling which being wrapped around Castiel gives him, and doesn't seem to want to separate. 

"Can we shift this onto the bed?" Castiel panted, his eyes searing to take in and memories every bit of the wonderful man he loved. 

Dean, with visible effort but no lacking, half-stands, Castiel scrambling up too, and they are on the bed, which Dean lying beside Castiel. Castiel slams his lips onto Dean once more, pinning him against the bed.

"Cas, I-" Dean moans, and shifts under Castiel when Castiel's kisses trail down his neck. His hands paw at his jeans. Castiel immediately understands; Dean must be hurting, because as soon as Castiel had undone the buttons and slipped the jeans off of Dean, Dean arched his back as his hips jolt up, pressing into Castiel's erection. "You feel so good, Cas, I - Fuck, fuck, fuck-" Dean chants, as Castiel gets Dean's shirt halfway up, bending low to press his lips to the newly found skin.

"Need you-" Dean choked, his fists clutching onto the bedsheets, as Castiel finishes trailing chaste kisses along Dean's bare chest. 

Castiel had never done this before, but he wasn't even thinking. He was just going with his instincts. And Dean's words surely encouraged him, asking him for more and repeating his name again and again.

It was as if Dean suddenly realised that Castiel was fully clothed, and at half-mast from the way his dick was tenting in his pants, because he abruptly used his hand to push Castiel off of him, and climb on top, with his knees on either side of his thighs, his hands working experiencedly on the buttons.

Castiel feels himself go weak in his knees when Dean shoots him a hungry look, before lowering himself onto Castiel's length. That extracts a yelp, but Dean knows what he's doing, and Castiel feels his senses numb everything but pleasure.

"Cas," Dean's voice is throaty when he straightened, one of his hands against the bed, and the other prepped up against Castiel's naked chest. "Angry sex is great, but I want our first time to be perfect." Castiel subconsciously wonders how Dean can talk sense when he feels as though everything were a mess. A perfect mess. "Do you forgive me?"

"I can't not." Castiel's eyes roll back in their sockets because though Dean isn't moving, his weight is placed inattentively on Castiel's lower thighs. And it feels - "And I don't want to stay mad at you. I believe you, Dean. I can't help believing that you're not lying. And I don't want to doubt it." He was surprised his mind conjured up that much. "Now, can we talk afterwards?" He almost pleaded, his erection craving attention from Dean again.

Dean let out a knowing chortle, growling something along the lines of, "You have no idea what you do to me, Cas," before planting an open-mouthed kiss on Castiel's lips. 

It was not long before Castiel came - yelling 'Dean' and clinging onto the bedsheets.

Dean orgasmed almost right after, repeating Castiel's name till he climaxed and finally going limp as he rolled over to his back on the bed, breathing heavy. As if drained of all energy, he lay there for a moment, his swollen lips still trembling as Castiel stared at him unabashedly, soaking up all of Dean Winchester.

"Please never be mad at me, again." Dean croaked, a pause after. Castiel quirked his ear. "I was so frightened that I'd wrecked it with you, and I've never been so scared about losing someone. I-I just -" Dean turned his head to face Castiel, a single tear streaking down his cheek to Castiel's pillow. "Please stay."

"Always." Castiel mumbled, almost incoherently, his face half buried in his pillow. "And please don't leave, Dean."

"I love you," Dean rasped, his hand lifting Castiel's fingers to his lips. Castiel hadn't even realised they'd been holding hands. Dean's lips brushed against Castiel's knuckles, sending a shiver up his spine. "I love everything about you, Cas." He repeated, his eyes still glassy.

"Can you kiss me again?" Castiel blushed, softly.

"Why?"

"I need to be sure that this is not just a dream." Castiel muttered fervently, smiling because Dean had a gummy look on his face.

"Why?"

"I wouldn't want to wake up, but I'd like to be prepared if you're not here in the morning. Because you completed your dare."

Dean let out a strained laugh.

"You made me, in the truest sense of the word, want you, Dean Winchester."

Dean smiled lazily. But it was dreamy to Castiel. "You'd be interested in keeping me, though, now that you have me, right?"

"How many times do I need to tell you not to ask stupid questions?"

"Well, I am a dumbass." Dean smirked.

"You're an idiot; less dumb, less ass." Castiel mumbled, correctingly. "A stultus - that's what you are, Dean Winchester."

"In all my glory." Dean winked, sultrily.

Castiel smiled.

Those were the first words Dean had ever said to him. 

He remembered it so clearly.

He closed his eyes.

The two slept for what remained of the night, wrapped in each other's arms, their clothes strewn all around the room, and their brains clouded of any other thoughts.

And,

It had not even been five months yet, but Castiel was grateful that he'd been there that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to spoil you with an epilogue. 
> 
> Because I'm not willing to let go, just yet.


	8. "I kind of love the disgustingly cheesy chick-flick gestures."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it. The Epilogue. It reads like chick-flicks-on-ecstasy and unicornical rainbows, but I let my inner shipper take over me while writing it - overpowering the spirit of the authoress - and hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Castiel amused himself, while distractedly calligraphing his name on the lined page, with thoughts of Dean Winchester. And a certain new thought, which had only come to him earlier that day - the thought that Dean had taught Castiel so much.

Not just the little things, like how to change the carburetor in the Impala - though Castiel wondered where he'd use it - or the millions of references from every movie ever which Dean first quoted, then Castiel didn't understand, and then, at the shortest interval, Dean pursued to make him watch.

And not the things he learnt about himself either; like the fact that he liked blowjobs, shower sex, and the foreplay leading up to a kiss. Also, he smiled as he finished decorating the 's', how he loved kissing freckles.

But the actually important things, was what he was thinking about.

Like the fact, that a book should truly not be judged by it's cover. Castiel had discovered that Dean was little the man he was known to be, and a lot more the kind of human being Castiel had unconsciously been searching for. Considerate, and hilarious; interesting and understanding. A good listener, and good looking not just in the 'sexy' stance. Good looking, like give-you-butterflies-with-a-smile gorgeous, and more adorable than a 19 year old is allowed to be. Though, he bit his lip, he couldn't disregard the infamous smoulder, either. Nothing said 'come-hither' better than that sinful - and irresistible - smirk.

Also, like the fact that if you have the perfect companion, things are just easy. That it doesn't just stay a stereotype that relationships are easy with the right person, but the truth - even having meaningless conversations about everything under the sun was fun enough. The things they'd done together; Spending a whole day re-watching movies at a movie theatre, Chemistry Practical, even shopping. The list went on, and on. It was a happy thought.

And lastly, he'd learned that the kind of love people read about in books, does actually exist. The kind of unplanned love which sprouts up between two people - the sheer chemistry - does really exist. Castiel remembered being dead set on not falling in love, but somewhere along the way, as Dean forgot the reason he was doing all he was doing, Castiel had forgotten the reason he was holding back and not letting himself give in to the ecstatic feeling of love. It was still strange to think how his resolution had worn off, bit by bit, till all he could look forward to was more of Dean.

Not exactly the best example of will power, Castiel admitted to himself. But he was going to go easy on himself, this one time. After all, it was Dean.

He looked down at his piece of art.

Not nearly as good as it'd been back in eighth grade - he'd taken it as an extra, back in middle school - but satisfactory. His name looked back at him, with grace. A Castiel from an earlier time, because now, he was mostly just Cas, wasn't he? The name was catching on, and there were few who still called him Castiel.

The class bell rang, suddenly. The substitute teacher stood up, and after instructing the class to disperse in an orderly fashion - as though they were still in the third grade - walked away. Castiel leant back in his seat, trying to remember the next class he had.

He remembered it was Lunch, and instantly glad that he'd get to see Dean again.

Since their senior year was drawing to an end - about two months left of highschool - Castiel had chastised Dean to take better care of his grades. Dean was certain to get a sports scholarship after how he'd gotten the Sports Academy Inspector completely infatuated with his game, Castiel happily remembered; but bad grades could take that away. So, no more bunking classes to be in Castiel's, or spending them daydreaming.

Dean had agreed, with reasonable grumbling, but nothing more than what Castiel had expected.

But Castiel kind-of missed Dean, as well.

A sound next to him roused him from his reverie. It was the sound of Dean Winchester dropping himself on the bench, next to Castiel, with a large grin on his face.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel instantly smiled, not even having to put any efforts into it.

"Cas," Dean breathed out as a greeting, before leaning in towards him. The familiar scent of the Impala, leather, aftershave - Dean was terrible tease about how he'd started shaving, and Castiel hadn't needed to, yet - and Dean, in general crowded his senses, as Dean's lips brushed across his lips in a chaste kiss. Before pulling apart, Dean breathed down Castiel's collar - purposefully, probably - and Castiel shuddered throughout.

He couldn't help thinking that it was such a couple-y thing to do.

He didn't really mind.

He didn't really mind again, when Dean pressed up against him, sliding on the bench, to peer over Castiel's work.

"Gorgeous," Dean complimented, turning his head to face Castiel. "That's some good handwriting."

Castiel understood the subtle wordplay the moment Dean began to chuckle, and dutifully laughed back. "Thanks, I learnt it in the eighth grade."

"I don't remember eighth grade much; we had to move around back then. I must've been to six schools that year." Dean replied, cheerfully, earning himself a concerned frown. "Stop looking at me that way. And you can complete your art later - we've got Lunch."

"My art is complete," Castiel smiled back. "Those are all the letters in my name."

"What about the '4Dean4ever'?" Dean grinned.

"I was thinking of passing on that, this one time." Castiel rolled his eyes.

"Okay, alright," Dean made a face as though he was considering it. "As long as it's all over the last page of your diary, 'Kay?"

"Okay." Castiel laughed, in spite of himself. The both of them stood up, and Castiel gathered his books. Dean had none. Castiel tried to soothe his annoyance by letting himself believe Dean dropped them off at his locker, and did have them in class.

"Hey, wait," Dean's eyes widened, and he dug into the inside of his jacket and surprisingly produced a rose. "Here's something for you."

"You're into magic now?" Castiel pursed his lips to hide his embarrassment, from receiving a red rose in the middle of class.

"No, just disgustingly cheesy chick-flick gestures for now." Dean nodded his head solemnly. Castiel threw his head back and laughed, while Dean proceeded to add, "I found it pinned to my locker."

It was a quick transformation of expression; Castiel squinted his eyes. "Your locker?"

"Yeah, somebody left it there." Dean tried hard to look nonchalant, instead of defensive. "Probably got the wrong locker, eh?"

"Most probably not." Castiel replied, in an even tone. The two of them begun to walk out of the class. There was an awkward silence for a while.

Castiel knew Dean was still popular with girls, in spite of being in a relationship with Castiel since December. Months had passed, but he knew they still hoped Dean would reconvert to being straight, and how he always was. A. K. A. Castiel's nightmares.

He also knew that with Senior Prom approaching, Dean got asked out a lot. Sometimes even when he was standing next to him. He'd never get over girls drooling all over Dean to get him to take them as his date; he wouldn't call it jealousy, but something close.

But Dean had always been apologetic, about the whole thing - though, it wasn't his fault - and had always turned them down courteously. So, Castiel felt bad about his sour feelings about it all, when Dean had taken it in a stride.

Hence, when he tried to sound casual, he hoped it sounded genuine. "So, you're re-using roses now, Dean?"

"Would you rather I crush it, stomp on it, and dance on it till all that's left is a pile of pink pencil-shavings-kinda-thing?" Dean asked, with a straight face. "Because that was my second choice."

"No," Castiel sighed. "Not exactly, no."

"Seriously, though," Dean turned Castiel towards himself with a hand on his arm. "If you are irritated by this whole thing, I'll do something about it." They both were aware this was no longer about the rose.

"Wear a placard saying you're taken?" Castiel offered, sarcastically. Then looked at himself, and added with the slightest intention of making it a joke. "Hello, nice to meet you, I'm the placard you wear saying you're taken."

"Hey, please don't be mad," Dean pleaded, the concern in his eyes, genuine. "You know I only got my eyes on you, right?"

"Way to make it even more cliché." Castiel huffed at the wording of Dean's emotions, and looked away. "No, Dean, don't worry, I'm not mad. I've been better, but I trust you, and this is not getting between us."

Dean looked unconvinced. "Cas, I worry about how you'll decide that I'm not worth all that you have to put up with because of me, and that'll be the end of things." Castiel's eyes immediately widened, and Dean's perspective of the story dawned on him. He felt guilty, the very moment he realised what he made Dean feel like, with the 'I've been better'.

"Dean, I told you I'm not leaving, didn't I? And, I didn't want you to know, but I kind of love the disgustingly cheesy chick-flick gestures." Castiel told Dean, with a reassuring smile.

Dean snorted, which assured Castiel that he was feeling better from his moment of self-doubt, and he smiled. "Really?"

"Uh-uh." Castiel nodded, and promptly putting an arm on Dean's shoulder. "I'm not as into exhibitionism as you, but I enjoy the feeling of you gravitating inches towards me the instant someone tries to make a move. I'm torn between laying back and enjoying the scene, and saying something for you."

"You usually do the former."

"Would you prefer me telling people to get off of you?" Castiel suggested, in a throaty voice.

"That sounds about appropriate," Dean smirked.

"Yeah, you like that?" Castiel wanted to chuckle, at how easy it was to make Dean go from broody to suggestive. But he managed to keep his voice low. "You like the thought of me telling people to get off of my boyfriend, and how you're only mine, and how that's something that isn't gonna change if or not they giggle touch your arm, because I'm the only person who gets to do things to you now, and that-"

"Damn, Cas." Dean drew in a sharp breath, and bit his lip. "You don't get to say things like that," he complained. "Not in the middle of the hallway, when all I can do is keep myself from jumping your bones by looking around at the teachers and kids swarming around."

"Well, I thought you were into exhibitionism." Castiel remarked, triumphantly.

"I love you," Dean supplied, looking like he didn't want to put in more thought into a suitable reply to that. "

"Less or more than you love thinking of me being the cockblock to your magnetism?"

"You naive bastard have no idea what cockblock means." Dean chuckles, and Castiel blissfully let out a chortle. "Now, come on! It's Lunch, and I'm hungry."

"You're never not hungry." Castiel tilts his head, looking at Dean fondly. "Not that yo-"

"And you've got a waist the size of a pin!" Dean retorted, dramatically worked up.

"Why does that simile make me think you've been reading Little Women instead of Pride and Prejudice again, Dean?" Castiel groaned, the serious matters forgotten in the frame.

"No," Dean beamed, the indignance forgotten. "I just have a really good memory."

"Which one dies, again?" Castiel teases, prepared for an outburst.

"Shut up." Dean scowls. "Beth was my favourite character." And Castiel throws back his head and laughs, and Dean gives up the act and joins in soon after.

By the time Dean and Castiel reach the Lunch Hall, it is crowded, and it's a boon that Dean's friends always save them a couple of seats at their usual table.

"Mashed potatoes, cherry-pie?" Dean asks, sweetly, when they reach the counter and earns himself an eye-roll. But Castiel lets him serve him, nonetheless.

"Sloppy Joe, sweetheart?" And they repeat the routine.

"Meatballs, sugarplum?" Dean tries next, and Castiel smacks him up the head, endearingly, this time, and moves on past him. "You never want to do anything fun!" He whines, standing unreasonably closely pressed up against Castiel in the line for dessert. 

"Fun? Okay." Castiel purses his lips. They're at the front of the line. Castiel turns to Dean. "Pudding, honey-bunny?" He asks, with his best impression of Dean. He even bats his eyelashes, and make a point to look up at Dean like he'd once mentioned he found attractive. "Or maybe you would prefer a slice of the fruitcake, snuggle-muffin?"

Dean almost chokes, and ends up having neither, because he's too busy coughing and laughing at the same time, and Castiel has to hustle him away from the front of the line. "Okay, I'm gonna stop." Dean promised, when a little more calm.

"That was enough for you?" Castiel teased. "Imagine what I have had to deal with."

"And still you love me," Dean added, scratching his chin elegantly, as though he were Sherlock Holmes incarnate. "There must be something really awesome about me."

"Or something wrong with me?" Castiel offered, and Dean laughed again.

They both take their seats. Dean has Jo on his right and Castiel on his left, and Castiel has Charlie on his right. Sam is in front of him. "Hey, Charlie. Sam."

"So, guess what?" Charlie almost bounced in her seat.

"What?" Castiel raised an eyebrow.

"No," she urged. "You have to guess what!"

"Okay," Castiel blinked. "Is it related to LARPing?" Charlie nodded, excitedly. "Moondoor won the battle against the Walloons?" Charlie shook her head. "I'm invited to your next LARPing session?"

Charlie shook her head, but then added, "Acquaintance of the Queen are always invited. But, it's something else."

Castiel remembered suddenly, of Charlie's infatuation with the new girl. "Gilda? Is this about Gilda?"

Charlie almost nodded her nose off.

"You asked her out?" Charlie shook her head. "She asked you out?"

A nod.

Castiel beamed at her. "Way to go, Charlie! When do you go out?"

"Guess!"

"Today?" No. "Tomorrow?" No. "The day after?" No.

"This could go on for awhile," Sam interrupted. "Sorry to interrupt, Charlie, but you can't hog Cas."

Castiel raised an eyebrow, at him. But Charlie nudged him hard, and he looked at her again. "What? You wouldn't tell me anything directly!"

"Okay," Charlie rolled her eyes. "To prom! She asked me out to prom!"

Castiel smiled broadly. "Great!" Charlie excitedly half-hugged him. He awkwardly hugged her back. "I'm so happy for you, Charlie!"

"We're going dress-shopping together!" She giggled. "This is so awesome!"

"Congratulations!" Sam added. "Hope one of you gets crowned Prom Queen."

"Eh, I'm Queen of Moondoor, and she's a fairy. Petty titles don't interest us, like you Muggles." She grinned.

"Beg your pardon," Sam mockingly apologised, before turning back to Castiel. "Hey, so, did you watch David Gibbins' interview?"

"No," Castiel sighed. "I also forgot to tape it. I don't even remember what I was doing."

"Maybe, his brother," Charlie inputted, making Sam cringe, and Castiel look away in embarrassment, because he maybe was.

"Charlie, gross!" Sam put down his sandwich in repulse, almost.

"Okay, sorry but I just wanted to re-bring your attention to me!" Charlie grinned. "And my awesome date!"

"Who are you talking about, Charlie?" Dean's voice cut in, apparently out of conversation with his side of the table. "Hey, bitch." He muttered distractedly, to Sam, as some sort of a formality.

"You remember Gilda?" Charlie filled him in. "She asked me to prom! I'm going to my senior prom with Gilda, the fairy from my kingdom!" She added, as though that were half the important part.

"Whoa, score!" Dean laughed, lifting his hand for a high-five. Charlie obliged, still grinning. When Charlie had resumed her seat, Dean added, to Sam. "What about you? Still looking for the balls to ask someone out?"

"I'm thinking of skipping prom, actually," Sam confided. "I mean, obviously, I went last year already-"

"With Gabriel," Charlie sang out.

Sam rolled his eyes, as Castiel laughed. "Courtesy of my brother, you attended senior prom in Freshman Year."

"Sometimes it surprises me," Dean spoke in a dramatic stance to Castiel. "Samuel, two years my junior, has seen so much more of this World than I."

"Shut up," Sam scowled. "You guys are annoying to talk to. I should really consider getting a separate table, right about now."

"You'll have to," Dean laughed. "When I graduate, you'll have to step out from under the shadow of your awesome brother, and assemble your own table. You're gonna suck at making your own decisions," Dean added, with a snicker.

"Yeah, because you're the one who decides if I should taken pudding or fruit." Sam sarcastically snapped back.

Dean ignored it, and continued to laugh.

"No, you know, I mean it." Sam laughed a bit, too, so Castiel knew he didn't really mean it. "I've got to get my own table. And then people from this table will desert yours, and sit at mine, instead."

"Who are you thinking of?" Charlie grinned.

"There's lots." Sam boasted. "And, you'll come with too, won't you?" Sam looked hopefully at her.

"Nah, I stick with Cas." Charlie shrugged, and Castiel stared at her for the loyalty.

"Well, Cas is gonna be on my table too. Because my table is going to have less of a mess, and more appropriate conversations, like he'd like." Sam declared, and Castiel grinned, prepared for what was about to come.

"Hey, what do you think you're saying?" Dean frowned, from his right. "Cas stays with me."

"He's in my book club!" Sam protested. "And my chess club! And my-"

"He's in Dean's extremely personal space." Charlie commented, quietly, and Sam looked at her cringingly. "Again, sorry, just wanted to recapture your attention. If I join your table, can Gilda come too?" She asked, innocently.

"Gilda sits with the cheerleaders," Dean clarified. "Doesn't she?"

"Right, but she's my prom date, so for a month before prom, she sits with me!" Charlie explained, as though stating the obvious.

"Well, then," Dean looked at Sam, triumphantly. "Cas is my prom date, so he sits with me!"

"Actually, I'm not-" Castiel blurted out, and instantly, he felt the glare of three pairs of eyes on him.

"-Who are you going with, then-"

"-yet." He added, bleakly, in spite of Charlie's interruption. He didn't want to say it, but it'd slipped, so now he looked at Dean with an even look. "I'm not your date, yet."

Dean's horrified expression changed, but he was wordless.

"Fuck, don't scare us like that!" Charlie sighed exaggeratedly.

"Whoa, Dean didn't ask you out yet?" Sam asks, cautiously.

Castiel shook his head. "And I didn't ask him either, so-"

"Cas, I'm so sorry." Dean finally spoke, taking Castiel's hand in his. Castiel was taken aback at the sudden intimacy of the gesture, but didn't draw it back.

"It's not a big deal."

"I agree, it's huge." Charlie added, unnecessarily.

"Cas, I don't believe I forgot," Dean continued. "Please don't think that I just assumed that we'd go together because, well, we're dating - I had every plans to ask you out! I just forgot - Oh, son of a bitch! I'm so sorry, Cas-"

"Dean, really, it's fine." Castiel tried to give him a reassuring smile.

"I am so sorry, Cas - it was supposed to be me asking, because I was the one who asked you out first and made the first move, and I was supposed to ask, well in advance, and I forgot, and I can't-"

"Dean, you're making it sound like we're in some Disney drama." Castiel whispered back. "Girl Meets World, more like. I don't care that you didn't ask me out. It's fine-"

"Wait a second," Dean suddenly brightened up. He straightened, and stood up, pushing back his chair. "Forget this conversation happened, okay?"

"Okay," Castiel agreed, uncertainly.

"Okay." Dean cleared his throat. "Now, forget about it completely. And don't interrupt me till I'm done." He pursed his lips, and Castiel's head reeled back to the scene in the parking lot from before. Something told him this was going to be much bigger. Could it be that-

"People!" Dean suddenly yelled out, and a lot of the noise subdued. Dean backs until he stood in the clearing, and yelled again. "Hey, guys and girls of Lawrence High - Ladies and Gentlemen! Hey!" With his spontaneous yelling, he'd managed to quieten down the crowd.

And then people saw that it was Dean Winchester, captain of the school team, and shushed up anyways. Everybody looked at him in anticipation. Castiel looked at him nervously.

"Yeah, so you know me right, guys?" He continued to yell at the top of his lungs, as if he were used to being a stage presence, and he commanded the audience continuously. Everybody threw in different versions of an affirmation. "Yeah, what you don't know, is that I, Dean Winchester, am an idiot! And why, you ask! Well, because, it's less than a month to prom, and I still didn't ask out the person I want to go with! I know! Idiot, right?" He finger-gunned himself.

As if Dean were on a raised platform with a mike in his hand doing a live show, everyone in the cafeteria was silent, and looking at Dean. Castiel was trying to fight off the urge to walk up to Dean and tell him off for making a commotion as such. About something so trivial.

"So, I'm going to need your help, guys!" Dean added, in an almost singsong voice. But he sounded believable. A few girls cheered. "I'm going to need the help of the squad! Cheerleaders who cheer at our school games and do a damn good job of it," Dean raised his voice in a questioning sort. "Are you willing to help?"

There were definitely some loud cheers by now, and girls from the mentioned table begun to sit up - even stand. After all, it was Dean Winchester.

"Okay," Dean grinned, happy at the response. "You guys are awesome to help me out like this! So I'm going to need you to spell out a name for me, okay? Okay?"

There were definitely people on their feet now.

Castiel flushed red. He couldn't believe what was happening.

"So, ready? GIVE ME A 'C'!" He began, and the entire crowd yelled 'C', because they were accustomed to responding to cues from their school team's captain like that. The girls hustled into formation, led by Lisa, who clearly winked at Dean and led her squad into making a 'C', without the pompoms. Castiel gulped.

"And, GIMME AN 'A'!" He yelled again, and the routine followed. Charlie almost squealed from behind Castiel. Castiel blinked.

"Now, GIVE ME A 'S'!" He yelled, and the crowd erupted with cheers. Castiel's brain couldn't decipher why.

"Okay, thank you, that's all I need!" Dean announced. "That's the name! That's the person I'm talking about! That's the person I pray will say 'yes' to me! That's the person I'm going to ask out for prom! That's the guy! That's him! CAS!" He added, as a bonus, as Charlie almost nudged Castiel on his feet.

Unsure, Castiel scuttled to his feet, and looked around forlornly. People were cheering.

"Yeah, Cas!" Dean cheered. "Cas! Come on, join me here! C'mon! These are all friends, and you needn't be shy! Come on!"

Castiel reached Dean, and Dean had a large smile on his face.

The familiarity of that brought back some of his nerves.

Dean's dark blonde hair was swept backwards, and his green eyes were sparkling with excitement. He was sweating too, and his cheeks looked red from all the blood rush. He was almost shivering with the adrenaline, and his lips were quivering in anticipation.

"Dean." Castiel let out, not knowing what else to say.

"Let me do the talking," Dean whispered, in a soft voice, before pulling apart a bit. Before Castiel knew what happened, Dean was down on one knee, and the audience erupted in a whole new round of cheering and hooting. He held out his hand for Castiel, and Castiel didn't know what to do but give it to him. Dean held it familiarly; his thumb stroking the soft skin on the underside of his wrist like he knew Castiel loved.

"I'm sorry I have no speech prepared, Cas, so I'm going to go with my instincts." Dean announced, loudly again. "I know I've said this quite some times before, but I hope it hasn't gotten stale, because I've got to say it again. Cas," he paused, for effects. And Castiel knew what he was going to say; his heart throbbed. "I love you."

There was subdued cheering for awhile, before suddenly Jo whooped, and suddenly everyone was cheering louder than ever before. Even the girls who'd wanted Dean to themselves, Castiel wondered.

He knew how hard it must've been for Dean.

For almost a year now, he'd been dismantling his stereotyped playboy image, but today, it finally collapsed to rubble, with Dean declaring something in public like this. Like the fact that he loved Castiel.

Castiel suddenly had an overwhelming desire to grab Dean and kiss him, but he sustained it.

"And, undoubtedly," Dean resumed. "I'd only like to go to Prom with you. I'd enjoy the dances, and I'd enjoy the night, and I'd enjoy the ambience, only if I get to share it with you! So, can you forgive me for being this late, and agree to go to Prom with me?"

Castiel realised, a bit late, that it was finally his turn to speak.

He'd been quite pardonably occupied with Dean's dancing eyes.

"Uh-" he began awkwardly, words arranging in sentences in his mind. He wondered if he should say something even half as beautiful back. I love you too. I'd like nothing better. You're forgiven for everything. I can't believe you did this. And so on. But only a few words were let out. "Yes - Of course. Absolutely. Yeah. Yes. Yes." In the last time, he tugged at Dean's hand till he was standing again.

"Thank you," Dean whispered, with a breathless smile which made him look so happy, that Castiel could melt. "You can look away now!" He yelled at the crowd good-naturedly, and everyone laughed collectively, and most people looked away dutifully as Dean cupped Castiel's face with both of his hands, and captured his lips in a breathtaking kiss.

Dean opened his mouth, almost immediately, and his tongue flicked out to taste Castiel, while Castiel nibbled at Dean's bottom lip. Dean let out an absolutely sinful moan, and Castiel felt arousal shoot through him, as he pressed into the kiss further, wanting more of him. This time, Dean sucked on Castiel's lip, and they parted with at least a dozen chaste kisses as a sort of remainder.

He should've gotten used to kissing him by now, but something told him he'd never truly tire of kissing Dean.

"You never get to say you hate chick-flicks, again." Castiel mumbled, contentedly.

"You did think it was good, didn't you?" Dean enquired, his lips still dangerously close to Castiel's.

"Try extravagantly ridiculously adorable," Castiel confessed. "And, also perfect."

"Well, I apologise for putting you in a situation where rejecting would make you look bad." Dean teased. "Since now, you're really going to have to go to prom with me. It's going to be you and me, in matching tuxedos, strutting out of Baby - and she'll wear corsages for the both of us - and I'll insist that we walk in with linked arms, and later, we try the chocolate fountain together - there's going to be one; Sammy's in the planning committee - and the night will be ours to dance away to romantic music." Dean paused. "And you just know I'm gonna want to dance, don't you?"

"Dean," Castiel whispered into Dean's ear, before pressing a kiss to the bolt of his jaw. "All that you said? I swear, I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I love you, Cas."

"Three times already since morning," Castiel informed him, evasively, and Dean didn't even blush.

"No hiding it now, huh?"

"Well if you say so, then," Castiel leant in some more, and whispered it. "I love you, too."

Dean smiled, looking contented for a long drawn moment after Castiel pulled back; his eyes only fluttering open then.

"Then everything's exactly how it's meant to be." Dean purred.

"And, isn't that what we were all hoping for?" Castiel whispered, not suppressing the impulse to end the high on that line. Dean pulled back, only enough to stare straight into Castiel's eyes breathily, before exhaling and slamming his lips on Castiel's again, devouring. Castiel resisted the urge to close his eyes to the ecstasy; because unshut eyelids befolded the breathtaking view of Dean's emerald green eyes, fondly meeting his own.

It was all he could have hoped for.

A happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this book is over.  
> It was my first time of writing a multichapter fanfiction, and it took me close to half a year. I'd grown to really love the characters as I potrayed them - (late) Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, because Santa couldn't fit them in his bag - and I'm really going to miss it.  
> I hope you people liked it, because that's what it was about, in addition to satisfying my fangirl urges. Please leave me traces of your being here; they always make me feel better on a rainy day with writer's block and procrastinator's blues.  
> What else? Endings are the hardest part. You folks keep being awesome, and maybe check out my other works. Say your 'I love you's if you mean to, and don't liqour your wounds. Take care of yourself, and stay faithful to your fandom.  
> Keep it Sailing.  
> Wink, if you know what I mean, Wink.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Updates will be regular *mostly* and do leave behind kudos to tell me you were here! I'm a new writer on ao3, so I'll really appreciate any feedback in the form of comments!!! Have a great day (or night), everyone reading this!!!
> 
> \- Sheya.


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